


Building a Memory

by Tennyo



Series: Memories [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesia, Canon Divergence, Community: deancasbigbang, DCBB, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2016, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Dean, Post-Episode: s09e07 Bad Boys, Season/Series 09, domestic fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 08:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8571781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennyo/pseuds/Tennyo
Summary: Who is Dean Winchester? When you get past the childhood trauma, militaristic upbringing, and crippling codependency with his brother, not to mention the unhealthy coping mechanisms, what’s left?When Dean wakes up in a hospital, banged up and absolutely no memory of himself or his life, maybe he’ll get the chance to redefine himself. Especially since those around him refuse to tell him who he used to be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I want to think my Beta, Elizabeth1985. We've been helping beat each other's stories into shape for a while, and I'm glad to have her as a friend.  
> Also, I'd like to thank the Twitter DM "DCBB Crying" for having a place to vent, and a supportive shoulder when I needed one.  
> (Last but not least, Knowmefirst created a couple of pieces, which you can see[ HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8578885)!)
> 
> This story isn't quite what I intended, but it is what it is, a rambling piece about trying to find yourself when you don't know who you are. It's mostly a bunch of fluff with interspersed emotional moments.  
> And don't expect much medical accuracy. Just consider it "TV Medicine".
> 
> There's a [Playlist on YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLxtjEreE8iQyu_uQmifRSbzKkcJAgHsTG) if you'd like to listen along.
> 
> Please feel free to let me know if I need to add extra tags.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

He’s floating, and… fuzzy. There’s pain, but a dissociation between feeling it, like it’s happening to another body. An itch on his right elbow becomes a prominent feature. The idea of movement is a distant thought, because that requires effort. And that’s effort he can’t be bothered to make.

After some unknown amount of time has passed, he notices the taste in his mouth, sharp and dank. Something up his nostrils feeds him cool air. As an experiment, he takes a deeper breath. Now that he’s noticing his breathing, he can’t help but focus on it. That deeper breath is cut short, as a stronger pain pierces through that fuzzy veil that separates him from his body. Back to shallower breathing, then.

That itch at his right elbow becomes his new focus, and the muscles of that arm twitch at the thought of movement. It’s only going to get worse if he does nothing, as it now consumes his thoughts. Maybe if he moves it just enough to rub… But his arm is heavy, and refuses to move at the elbow. It does slide uncomfortably to his side just a fraction, though. That’s when he notices the fingers of his right hand are cold. They twitch at the thought.

Maybe seeing what’s where would help, he thinks. But that involves opening his eyes, and the lids are just so heavy. Now that vision is his focus, he can make out soft color from behind his eyelids. Raising his eyebrows and concentrating, his eyes pop open, only to be seared by what definitely doesn’t look like soft light. Eyes slam closed, and another pounding pain breaks through that fuzzy barrier, right behind his eyeballs, and spreads throughout his whole cranium. Another bad idea.

So far, his experiments have ended in pain, and a guttural groan emits from what he realizes is his own throat. At least that doesn’t hurt. Yet.

Sound. That seems like something that won’t bring pain. As he listens, he can make out regular, heavy breathing to his right. On his left, something shifts; there’s a creak, a soft susurrus, and an intake of breath. There are others here. The one on his left makes whatever he’s laying on shift just a bit, and there’s something soft and warm touching his arm. It’s nice.

A small whine escapes his throat as he tilts his head just slightly toward this presence. Perhaps this Other can make the itching and the pounding pain stop. Must find a way to communicate. While he’s trying to figure out how, the Other says something, low and deep.

“Dean?”

The word means nothing to him, but he twitches his eyebrows in recognition of the sound. Suddenly there’s shifting noises, and the Other’s calling out louder, “Sam!” The word is a harsh hiss, and the even breathing on his right is interrupted with a snort.

“Huh, what?”

This voice is different, less deep. There's more creaking and clattering noises, the sound of something shifting, and the light on his right side dims just a little as this one moves closer.

“Dean? You awake?”

There’s that word again. It still means nothing, and the edges of his mouth turn down briefly. Words. Maybe he can make words, and the new Other can make the pain and itching stop. With a sigh, he turns his head toward the new voice, just a little bit.

“Go get a nurse,” that Other says, and the warm pressure on his left arm vanishes. There are sounds of the left Other moving away. He wants to protest the loss of warmth, and manages to open his lips enough for a small croak to escape. Something solid and warm envelops the cold fingers on his right hand, and there’s a hitching breath from the Other on his right.

“Oh thank God,” this Other breathes, “We thought we lost you.”

Lost. If lost means being in that fuzzy separation of consciousness and pain, lost sounds pleasant right now. He grunts in reply. The Other’s breath hitches again. Are they in pain too?

Steady thumping noises come closer, and he can feel another presence, like the displacement of air, the sound of something shifting.

“Has Mr. Smith decided to join us in consciousness?”

This new voice is completely different from the other two. Higher pitched, sharp. This new Other seems to be anticipating some kind of response, so he grunts again.

“Come on, then. Show us those pretty eyes of yours.”

The voice is coming closer, and if the Others want to see his eyes, that searing light will return, and with it, more pain. He twists his head away, and scrunches his eyelids closed. There’s a sigh, and the new Other moves away. With a quiet click, the light behind his eyelids is gone. Oh, that’s better.

He cracks one eye open experimentally. The light is dim, except for a rectangle coming from the door at the other end of the room. It’s all fuzzy, and he opens both eyes, blinking to try to clear his vision. There are three forms that take shape, two on the left, one on the right. The one on his right squeezes his fingers in a warm hand. This one has a lot of long hair hanging from their head. The closest one on his left, wearing something light blue, speaks. This one is the new Other.

“I should be checking for pupil dilation, but I have a feeling you won’t like that.”

He huffs. Looking up, he can see this one has pale close-to-the-head hair, and a lined face. A word forms in his mind, Nurse. An older, female nurse. She purses her thin lips at him.

“You going to let me check you over, or will you continue to be difficult?”

Eyelids still heavy, he gives a slow blink, and groans. He wants to be able to talk, but his tongue is thick in his mouth, lips dry and uncomfortable. The longer he acknowledges the world around him, the more the throbbing pain coming from apparently everywhere increases. The tip of his overly fat tongue tries to make it out far enough to moisten his lips.

“I bet your pain meds are wearing off. We’ll get you some more when we’re done here. Want some water?”

A hopeful noise rasps from his throat, and the nurse places something between his lips and encourages him to draw blessed moisture into his mouth, but slowly. Too soon, she withdraws the water, and tells the long haired one to let go of his hand. He looks up at all that hair, and to the face hiding underneath. This one’s taller, with an angular face. The face looks tired, with stubble along the chin, and his clothes are wrinkled.

When he realizes there is still a third person in the room, he looks to the foot of the bed, where hands grip tightly to the bed rail. This person’s wearing loose, soft-looking clothes, and there is a head of messy dark hair over a face that also looks tired. The nurse draws his attention, and she continues her examination.

There’s a reason he’s in so much pain. His right arm is bound in a cast, broken in two places according to the nurse. Add to that broken ribs, and that explains the painful breathing. There’s a bandage wrapped around his head, and he can add cracked skull to the list. Oh yeah, and animal bites on his neck, along with various cuts and bruises pretty much all over. But his legs seem to work, albeit sore, and he wiggles his toes upon request. In between each examination, the nurse lets him have another small sip of water. By the time she’s done, his tongue doesn’t feel like it’s filling his whole mouth anymore. Still tastes terrible.

“Alright, Mr. Smith, I’m all done. I’ll send Dr. Cameron in, then you can get some pain medication and rest.”

He nods, and the nurse turns to leave. As soon as she’s out the door, the long-haired one is all up in his space again. During the examination, the fogginess of his brain has cleared some, and thinking’s easier now. Unfortunately, the pain is more insistent, and has set up a steady throb behind his eyes, at the back of his head, and across his ribs. If he could make words work yet, he’d tell the man looking at him all worried to go away until after he gets some more rest and pain medication.

“Dean, we told them it was an animal attack. Thankfully, we got you transferred to Sioux Falls General, so the law won’t be poking around.”

There’s that word again. He’s assuming it’s his name, Dean Smith. He wonders why Long Hair is telling him all these things he doesn’t seem to care about or remember. Dark and Broody is still clinging to the guard rail, knuckles white. Really, he should be wondering why these two men are hovering, or who they are, or why he can’t seem to remember who he even is himself, or why he’s in the hospital. The nurse mentioned an animal bite, but the things Long Hair said… Whatever. All he really cares about is having the doctor show up so he can get his pain medication and go back to sleep.

Dark and Broody opens his mouth to speak, just as a petite woman with dark hair piled on her head and wearing a white coat comes into the room. She smiles, and nods to the other men in the room.

“Sam, Cas, good to see you again. I know you’re dying to catch up with Dean here, but I really need to finish his examination.”

Sam and Cas (Which one’s which?) back away from the bed and slump out into the hall. Long Hair says, “We’ll be just outside,” and Dark and Broody gives him a soulful gaze.

“It’s nice to have loved ones watching over you, isn’t it?” asks the doctor, but he doesn’t know what that means, so he gives a slight shrug with his left shoulder.

Dr. Cameron thankfully doesn’t take long in finishing the examination, even though she manages to shine an infernal light into his eyes, which sends spikes of pain straight through his optic nerve. He nods and shakes his head to her questions, still not willing to try more verbalization than the occasional grunt. At the end of it all, another person in a light blue outfit brings something for his pain, which the doctor injects into the tube going to his arm.

Cold rolls up the veins in his arm, and that fuzzy veil begins to settle over him once again. The two men enter the room, his “loved ones,” if he had to guess. Long Hair grasps his fingers on his right, Dark and broody pauses before placing a warm hand on his left arm. Eyes crossing as his lethargy grows, he thinks about what the doctor said about loved ones. Maybe it’s pretty nice, after all.

The last thing he focuses on before being dragged back under, is the dark-haired one leaning forward, and whispering, “I’m so sorry, Dean.” His eyes are blue.


	2. Chapter 2

When he next drifts back to consciousness, Dean thinks about his situation. First, it feels weird to think of himself as “Dean.” Next, he tries to remember something - _anything_ from before he last woke up. Nothing. No memory of the animal attack, or even his childhood. That really should bother him more than it does. Instead, he chooses to focus on the now, his aches becoming more insistent as the pain medication wears off.

Opening his eyes, he sees Long Hair perched by his bed, doing something with a device on his lap. His brain registers “computer” just as Long Hair looks up to see he’s awake. Quickly closing the laptop and pushing it off to the side, the man’s forehead crinkles with worry.

“Dean, how are you feeling?”

After a slow blink, Dean opens his mouth and croaks, “Water.” Hey, that’s good, he can talk. He watches as Long Hair scrambles for a plastic pitcher and cup. After taking a long drink through a straw, he leans his head back on the pillow with a sigh. Looking around the room, he realizes it’s just the two of them. Turning his head back to Long Hair, he asks, “Where?”

“Oh,” Long Hair blinks at him. “Cas went to get something to eat, and a shower.”

Well that answers one question. Dark with Blue Eyes must be Cas, so that means Long Hair is Sam. No time like now to test that theory. “Sam?”

“I’m right here, Dean.” That set of wrinkles reappears on Sam’s forehead, and he rests a hand on the hard covering on Dean’s forearm. “We were worried, you took over a week to wake up from this one. Doctor says you’re lucky you didn’t crack your skull open.”

With a frown, Dean shifts on the bed, only to have his ribs protest. “What… happened?” Hey, look at that, two words in a row!

Sam pulls his hand away, and glances toward the door. “Ahh, what do you remember about before the attack?”

Well, how’s he supposed to answer that? “Um…” he clears his throat. “Nothing.”

Looking confused, Sam asks, “What do you mean, nothing?”

A knock at the door distracts Dean, and he looks up to see someone new. This one is a woman with a brown coat, and a seven pointed star pinned to the breast of it. Her eyes grow wide at the sight of him, and her breath catches. “Oh, you’re awake, thank goodness!”

She rushes to his bedside, and squeezes his left arm, leaning down to place a light kiss on his bandaged forehead. Whoever this woman is, she smells nice, and Dean instinctively leans into her touch when she places a hand on his cheek. “Last time I stopped by, you were still out.” She stands back up, hand still on his arm. “Hopefully the hospital hasn’t asked too many questions?”

Sam answers, “No, Jody, you’ve been a huge help here.”

Ah, so her name is Jody. As Dean wonders just who she is to them, Jody turns to look at the empty doorway. “You going to come in, Cas?”

The room goes quiet as everyone stares at the doorway. After a couple of heartbeats, Dark and Broody - Cas, his name is Cas - slowly comes into the room, head down. “I was going to give you a moment,” he says. He’s wearing a black and grey checkered button up, open over a black shirt and jeans underneath. Making his way to the foot of the bed, he keeps his eyes down, and his hands in his pockets.

Jody asks Dean how he’s feeling, and he frowns at her. “Hurts,” he replies. She gives him an indulgent smile.

“That happens in your line of work more often than not. Doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

While Dean tries to think of some kind of response to that, because what kind of work does he do? A nurse comes into the room. This one is a dark-skinned male, and he quickly takes Dean’s vitals before saying he’s going to get the doctor. After he leaves, Sam and Jody talk over Dean’s head about some kind of “case” and if there are any new “leads”. It’s starting to bother Dean that he has no idea what they’re talking about, so he focuses on Cas who is standing at the foot of the bed, staring at Dean’s feet.

To get his attention, Dean wiggles his toes. Cas blinks, then looks up to meet his eyes. He looks so sad, his mouth downturned, eyes drooping as they search Dean’s. Something seems to settle between them, like a weight in their gaze. Dean is curious to find out how he knows this man.

The moment snaps when the doctor comes in, the same one as last time. She shoos everyone out into the hallway, and she pulls up a chair on Dean’s left side. “Are we awake enough to answer some questions?”

She asks him questions he feels he should know, and succeeds with the first couple. He knows his name is Dean Smith, and that he’s in Sioux Falls General. But when she asks him the date, he doesn’t know. He can’t even guess what season. While he knows he got injured in an animal attack, he can’t say what kind, or where it happened.

It’s when he can’t remember his birthday that he starts to freak out a little. The doctor places a hand on his arm and says some memory loss after a head injury is common, but he can tell something is wrong as her questions become more personal, and he can’t answer a single one. Where does he live? Who are his parents? Job? Phone number? Nothing. He doesn’t even know if he has any allergies.

Becoming more agitated with each unanswerable question, Dean tries to change the topic, and mentions his pain. Thankfully, Dr. Cameron says she’ll send someone in soon, and she heads toward the door. She says she’ll be right back, but Dean is suspicious when she closes the door. More than likely, she’s telling the people waiting outside that he’s brain damaged or something.

Overcome with an inexplicable urge to escape, Dean tries to get out of bed. His ribs protest at every motion, and he’s obviously not left-handed, as he’s clumsy with trying to remove all the things attached to him. All sorts of beeping starts up, and the door opens while he’s trying to reach the IV in his left arm with his plastered-up right one.

Sam rushes over to restrain him, and the doctor calls out into the hallway. “What are you doing? Dean, stop!” Sam says, while fighting to keep Dean from sliding off the bed.

Unfortunately, Sam isn’t injured, so he is able to force Dean onto his back, which causes another rush of pain from his chest. Damn broken ribs. Dean stops fighting him, and Sam removes his hands, palms out.

“You’re safe here, I promise,” Sam says, eyes full of concern. He looks at the doorway, before turning back and whispering, “Are you sure you don’t remember anything?”

In pain, upset and irritable, Dean growls out, “What are you to me?”

Head jerking back as if hit, Sam stares down at him in shock. “What? I’m…”

The doctor comes back in with two other people and a syringe. They brush Sam aside and secure Dean to the bed as the doctor gives him an injection. Whatever it is this time doesn’t fill his veins with cold, but it does make his muscles relax, and he can feel the pain fading. This is what he wanted in the first place.

As the world around him starts to fade, he can make out Sam saying, “I’m your brother, Dean. We’re brothers.”

*

Dean’s really beginning to hate waking up. Whatever the doctor gave him makes his head feel like it’s stuffed with cotton. Voices in the room make him keep his breathing slow, and focus on what they’re saying. It sounds like Jody and Sam arguing about him.

“Listen, Sam. We don’t know how bad the damage is, and I agree with Dr. Cameron that he should get evaluated by a psychologist.”

“But like the doc said, his memory could come back at any time. What if he’s talking to the shrink and says something about what he really does? The things we’ve seen and done, Jody… They’d lock him away if he doesn’t know to keep his mouth shut.”

Well, that’s strange. Just what kind of messed up lives have they led that would get him in trouble if he remembered? They’re not criminals, are they? Some small part of him thinks it might be better if whatever it is stays forgotten. Tired of staring at the backs of his eyelids, Dean opens them, to find a pair of blue eyes staring back maybe an arm’s length away. Cas is sitting down and leaning over the bed, hands clasped tightly together. The stare is intense, so Dean tries a smile, and it comes out crooked. “Is there something wrong with my face?”

Somehow, the stare intensifies. “Do you mean other than the tubes, bruises, lacerations and bandages?”

With a sigh, Dean closes his eyes to that blue gaze. So much for humor. He’s obviously not a comedian. Opening his eyes, he focuses on the two still arguing in the corner. They’ve started waving their hands around, and it’s funny to see the shorter woman get right up in the taller man’s space and still look imposing. They’re obviously still arguing about something to do with him, though.

“Hey,” Dean manages to croak at them, “You two wanna quit talking about me like I’m not even here? I may not remember who the hell I am, but that’s no excuse to treat me like I’m invisible.”

His words make Jody and Sam cut short, and they frown at each other before turning to face the bed. “Sorry, Dean.” Jody puts on a sympathetic smile. “I was just explaining to your _brother_ here,” She flicks her eyes to Sam. “That you should let them run some tests, to see how bad the damage is.”

Sam frowns and says, “And _I_ was saying, we should wait and see if your memory loss will reverse itself naturally. No reason to trouble the doctors if it will just fix itself.” There’s a strange weight he puts on the phrase ‘trouble the doctors,’ but it’s lost on him. Maybe it has something to do with Sam’s fear of whatever he might remember getting him locked away.

Resting his head back on the pillows, Dean lets out a long breath. For someone who has done nothing but sleep for the past few days, he sure feels tired. “How about we have this discussion again when I can stay awake for longer than a few minutes? Maybe even sit up, move around?”

Cas is frowning in his peripheral vision, and Jody huffs. “Besides,” Dean continues, “Like Sam said, maybe as I get better, it will fix itself. And if it doesn’t, then we’ll let them poke at me some more.”

Jody crosses her arms over her chest. “Fine. But if you end up with brain damage, remember I tried to tell you otherwise.” She comes over and rests her hand on his arm. “I need to get back to work. These two yahoos should try to get some sleep, too.”

As Jody heads toward the door, Sam gives her a grudging “See you later,” and Cas says, “Goodbye, Sheriff.” Associations snap together for Dean, and the star on Jody’s coat makes sense. She _is_ the police. Surely if they were in trouble with the law, they wouldn’t be on such familiar terms. It just makes Sam’s fears of what Dean might say to a doctor that much more worrisome.

With Jody gone, they sit there in heavy silence for a while. Dean asks for water, and Cas raises a cup and straw to his lips. Once he’s finished, Cas sets it aside and looks at Sam. “Sam, you’re the one who has spent the most time by Dean’s bedside. Perhaps you should try to get some rest? You’re still recovering from your… illness.”

The comment has Dean examining Sam’s - his brother’s - face. Now that he’s looking, there are some heavy bags under his eyes, and his shoulders are slumped. He takes in the rumpled shirt and stringy looking hair. He could probably use a shower, too. “Guy has a point. You look like you’re about to fall over. I’m not going anywhere, you should go get some food, a shower, and some sleep.”

Sam glances up at Cas, before looking at Dean. He opens his mouth and closes it. Letting out a sigh, he gathers his laptop. “Yeah, I guess I should.” He blinks down at his lap before he stands up and walks to the door. With a look back at Dean, Sam stops and says to Cas, “I’ll keep my phone on, so feel free to give me a yell if…” Sam coughs, and looks down at the floor.

“I will, Sam,” Cas replies, “Rest well.”

Dean watches Sam nod once more before disappearing around the doorframe. Groaning, he lets his head relax back in the pillows, and closes his eyes. Great. Fucking fantastic. Now everyone’s going to be weird around him. Eyes still closed, Dean says, “Hey, Cas?”

He can hear the guy shift next to the bed. “Yes, Dean?”

“Do you know what happened to me?”

The room falls silent, Cas not even moving. Peeking open an eye, he sees Cas frowning down at his hands. “It’s not that hard a question.”

Cas looks up at him. “I know, but… I wasn’t… Sam called me after.”

Not helpful. “Okay. So Sam’s my brother, are you my brother too?”

That causes Cas’ eyes to widen, before his whole expression falls. “Sam told them I was, but…”

“Not blood related?” Dean guesses.

Cas keeps his eyes lowered. “No, although I have been considered family, in the past.”

“Hmmm.” Dean closes his eyes again, absorbing the information. “And the sheriff?”

“Oh, Jody’s a good friend. You’ve been,” Cas pauses, “quite helpful to each other at times.”

“Mmh, that’s good.” Dean feels his eyelids grow heavier. Must be naptime again. “Hey, Cas?” He drags his hand to the edge of the bed, wiggling his fingers.

“Yes, Dean?” A warm hand wraps around his wrist. He likes that.

“Sorry I’m s’ boring.”

“It’s to be expected after a serious injury. I don’t mind.”

Dean hums, feeling lethargy drag him down.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s been a couple days since he woke up, and Dean can stay awake for longer now. He still hasn’t remembered anything about himself, and everyone is being strangely non-forthcoming about details of his own life. One would think that people would be trying to trigger a memory, with him having… what did the doc call it? Retrograde amnesia; but no, they all act like they’re _afraid_ he’ll remember something. It just reinforces that he must have done something terrible, after all.

He’s also kind of bored. There’s not much to do, lying in a hospital bed with one arm in a cast, ribs wrapped, and a head injury. The TV doesn’t have anything that interests him, and he doesn’t know what he likes to read. He’s been given magazines, but he just feels so restless and unable to focus.

Sam had to go check on something and said he might be gone for a few days, and all Dean’s had for company has been Cas, Jody, and the hospital staff. It would help if they’d answer his questions. When he asked what he did for a living, all Cas could do was sit there and mumble something about hunting, helping people, and fixing things? Do people hunt for a living?

Dean notices people with their phones, and when he asks about his, he’s told it got smashed and left behind in the attack. So it’s not like he can look through that for clues. Home is apparently a small town in Kansas. As for friends? Sam mentioned someone named Kevin before he left. Surely Dean has more friends who are concerned, and might like to hear from him? But Cas just sits there and makes excuses. Something about being on the road most of the time and how they don’t really get the luxury of maintaining connections.

When Dean asks Cas if he needs to get back to work, he responds with a bitter laugh and that he’s been gone too long already to still have one waiting for him.

“So why are you still here?”

Cas looks up at him. “Because it was requested I help look over you.”

He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Yeah, Jody’s been housing Sam and Cas while they’re here, but they have lives to get back to. It’s not right they’re putting everything on hold just for Dean. But when he voices that concern, Cas gets this weird look and says nothing’s more important. While that’s a nice platitude that gives Dean a weird warm feeling, it can’t be that easy.

“Seriously, you don’t have to be stuck here with me while I’m like this.” Dean pouts and looks down at the covers.

Cas places a hand on Dean’s forearm. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, Dean.”

That warm feeling intensifies, and Dean looks up at Cas, sees the sincerity in his eyes. He watches as the look changes to one of surprise, and a little crooked smile forms on Cas’ face.

“What?” Dean asks.

Cas breaks eye contact and chuckles softly. “Sorry, I just think I realize why you reference popular culture so often.”

This is the first real time anyone has actually shed light on Dean’s personality. Not wanting to point it out, but in an effort to keep the conversation thread going, Dean asks, “What are you thinking about?”

He watches Cas curl in his lips, trying to control his expression. “There was a song on the radio, and what you said reminded me of it. Isn’t memory a curious thing?”

Dean grins back at him, encouraging that smile to return. “What song was it?”

Cas scrunches his nose in thought, then says, “I don’t remember if they mentioned the title, but one of the commonly repeated lines was, ‘I’m so happy to be stuck with you’.”

That makes Dean laugh, and he winces as the effort causes a twinge from his ribs. “Oh, ow.”

“I’m so sorry, Dean!” Cas fusses over him, but Dean waves it off.

“Nah, it’s good to laugh, not your fault.” He settles back against his pillows, and watches as Cas shifts uncomfortably in his chair. The bubble has popped, but Dean still feels how the mood has lifted. He wants it to continue. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Can you find that song for me?”

The creases around Cas’ eyes deepen, and he pulls out his phone. “I’m not supposed to use a phone in the hospital, but it should be alright if I’m just making a note, right?”

Nodding, Dean watches as Cas slowly types in the words from the song into his phone for later. There’s a knock at the door, and he looks up to see Jody.

“Hi, Dean. I just spoke to one of the nurses, and they said that you can be released as soon as tomorrow.”

Oh, that is absolutely fantastic news. He can stop being a burden, and see something other than beige walls and medical equipment. “I’m not sure how long the trip is between here and Kansas, but anything’s better than here.”

Jody blinks at him. “Oh, you’re not going back to Kansas yet.”

“What?”

She comes over and stands next to the bed on the side opposite Cas. “We’ve talked about it, and have decided that at least until your cast comes off, that you should probably stay in Sioux Falls to recover.”

Dean looks over at Cas. “Did you know about this?” All he gets is a sideways glance and a noncommittal shrug as he hunches over his phone.

With a sigh, Dean waves his one useable arm before flopping it against the bed. “Fine. Like I said, anything’s better than here.”

Patting Dean’s cast, Jody turns to Cas. “I came to make sure you get a decent meal, a shower, and sleep.”

“Bring me something to eat too?” Dean asks, hopeful.

Jody gives him a sympathetic look. “I know, hospital food isn’t the best. But I promise to make you something good tomorrow after we get you settled in.”

“Even I was disappointed with the cheese sandwich they served Dean for lunch,” Cas says, frowning at the memory.

Yeah, it was a pretty pathetic square of processed yellow whatever between stale slices of bread. Dean wonders if normally Cas isn’t a picky eater. Jody’s waiting at the door, but Cas lingers at the foot of the bed, fingers trailing along the rail. The guy seems to want to stick around, which is weird, because there’s literally nothing to do except watch him lie there.

“See you tomorrow, Cas.” Dean prompts him to look up one more time, and he gets a flash of those blues before Cas nods and steps out the door.

As expected, the rest of his day is boring. There’s some Sudoku puzzles in one of the magazines, and Dean spends a good amount of time figuring out how Sudoku puzzles work, then solving a few rather quickly until dinner is served.

While he might not remember anything and has no frame of reference, he’s pretty sure that what he’s brought to eat is pretty bad.

On his divided tray is a grayish lump of something that might be meat, a rounded scoop of bland mashed potatoes, and soggy mixed vegetables. He also has a cup of watery soup, and the only good tasting thing, a fruit cup. After choking down what he can, he treats himself to the fruit cup. When he’s done he pushes the rolling tray out of the way, and finishes his latest puzzle. The rest of the night is spent flipping through slightly staticky channels on the tiny TV in the corner of his room until he manages to fall asleep.

*

The next morning, Dean wakes to the usual poking and prodding necessary in a hospital. He doesn’t mind it as much because he gets to leave today. Even his sad excuse for breakfast doesn’t do much to curb his enthusiasm. But as the morning drags on, with no Cas or Jody, Dean starts to get anxious. He’s never gone this long without someone at his bedside.

It’s almost lunchtime, and Dean is beyond worrying what’s wrong, when a nurse finally comes in with Jody and Cas in tow. As the nurse explains what Dean needs to know before going home, Jody smiles while clutching a stack of paperwork. Cas is holding a bag that seems to contain a change of clothes. It’s hard to pay attention to the nurse, knowing that it’s finally time to get out of here; but Dean tries to focus, because there’s a list of things he can and cannot do, along with his medications and scheduled checkups. Thankfully, Jody seems to have most of that along with the stack of papers in her hands.

Apparently there’s even more paperwork to be done, and the nurse escorts Jody from the room, leaving Cas alone with Dean. Cas shifts awkwardly and then lowers his gaze, handing over the bag of clothes. “Jody said you’d need something to change into.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Dean grabs the bag and looks inside. There’s a gray sleeveless t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and a soft, green button-up shirt. At the bottom is a pair of boxer shorts, sweat socks, and sneakers. He immediately reaches for the ties at the back of his hospital gown with his good hand. “So what took you guys so long?”

Cas shifts from foot to foot and pointedly stares at his own hands. “Jody insisted that your room be ready before we came for you, and then the paperwork required to exit the hospital took some time to fill out.”

Shaking out the sleeveless shirt, Dean tries to pull it on over his cast. “Hey, you wanna help me out here?” he asks Cas.

After a moment of Cas staring at him with his mouth open, he comes over and helps Dean in his struggle to get the injured arm through the hole, then the shirt over his head. As soon as they finish, Cas steps back and awkwardly shoves his hands in his pants pockets. It’s weird, but maybe that’s just Cas. Not like Dean can judge. Unfortunately though, he still has to get the rest of his clothes on with only one properly working arm.

“I could probably use a little more help with everything else, too.”

Cas looks up at him, his eyes wide, jaw slack. “Oh, I, um, OK.”

He shuffles over and manages to help get Dean in his sweatpants without hardly looking at him. Considering Cas’ behavior over just the shirt, Dean doesn’t want to try to deal with underwear just yet, so he leaves the boxers in the bag. Cas is carefully contemplating how to tie Dean’s shoelaces when Jody comes in. Looking up from where he was staring at the back of Cas’ head, Dean gives her a smile. She’s holding a large plastic bag labeled PATIENT ITEMS and a thick handful of even more papers.

“Good, you’re dressed.” She smiles and sets the bag and paperwork in a chair. “You ready to get out of Dodge?”

“Yes, please,” Dean groans. He is so ready to get out of here.

For some reason, the hospital refuses to let him leave under his own power, so Dean gets wheeled out to Jody’s Jeep in a wheelchair. There’s too much fussing about as he gets settled in the seat behind hers. Once his seatbelt is in place and everyone else is buckled in, they pull out of the hospital’s parking lot.

All the shifting and shuffling getting into the car has made Dean’s ribs ache again, and the bright sunlight has a throbbing pain developing behind his eyeballs; so he spends most of the ride with his eyes closed, head resting on the back of the seat. After a couple minutes of silence, Jody starts talking about the roast she’s got going in the slow-cooker for dinner, and how they’re just having sandwiches for lunch. Dean could care less, he just wants a pain pill and a dark room.

Once they’re parked in Jody’s garage, he finally feels like he can open his eyes. Cas and Jody help him out of the car, but he insists on making it into the house on his own. He’s led down a hallway with white walls and brown-stained wood doors, pushed through a kitchen with green countertops, and seated at a table in a room with a lot of wood paneling. As soon as both Cas and Jody leave him to bustle around in the kitchen, Dean sets his cast-encased arm on the table, and rests his forehead on the hard, rough surface of his cast. He has a feeling this is going to feel like a very long recovery.

The pain from his ribs eventually forces Dean to sit upright again, just as Jody brings him a sandwich and glass of orange juice. He frowns at her, and says he just wants to take his pain medication and sleep.

“Oh no, honey. You have to eat something first, or the meds will make you sick. Besides, we’re eating a late dinner, since I won’t be back until around eight.”

Jody places a hand on his shoulder. “Gotta head back to work now, so Cas will take care of you until then, okay?”

Dean grudgingly nods, and Jody looks back towards the kitchen. “Remember, don’t give him his pill until after he’s eaten the sandwich.”

“Of course, Jody,” Cas’ rough voice calls from the kitchen. “And I’ll remember to turn down the crock pot and start the rolls at the times you said.”

“You’re the best, sweetie.” Jody looks back at Dean. “Sorry to run off like this, but someone’s gotta keep the lights on, right?” She gives his shoulder a final squeeze before making her way through the living room. “If you need anything, Cas has my number. See you later!” And with that, she’s out the door.

With a pang of guilt that he’s being disruptive to Jody’s life, Dean looks down at the sandwich. It certainly seems more appetizing than the food he’s had at the hospital. It’s heaped with sliced turkey or maybe chicken, two slices of cheese, and crispy bacon. Since it’s kind of difficult to hold a sandwich one-handed, someone was thoughtful enough to slice it into halves. Carefully picking up a half with his left hand, Dean takes a bite.

Oh, that’s GOOD. The bread is soft and fresh, there’s a touch of spicy mustard, and he has to make himself stop and chew instead of just cramming the rest of it in his face-hole, the meat and cheese taste so good. He makes it through the rest of the half of sandwich before coming up for air and a drink of juice.

Cas sets down his plate and glass across the table from Dean, and looks down at him with a small smile. Not sure how to take it, Dean mumbles, “What?” and looks down at the remaining half of sandwich. Cas sits down and rests his forearms on the table. “It’s good to see you enjoy food again.”

“The hospital food was pretty terrible, huh?” Dean huffs out a short laugh and picks up the second half of his sandwich. He may not have felt hungry before, but getting real food in his stomach seems to have activated his appetite.

Before Dean can take a bite, Cas holds up a hand. “Wait.” He produces an amber bottle and shakes out a couple long, white tablets. “It says to take with food, so maybe you should have these before finishing your sandwich.”

Dean carefully sets down the sandwich and reaches across the table, palm up. “Trust me, I’ll finish it.”

Cas drops the pills into his hand and caps the bottle. Dean pops them into his mouth and washes them down with a gulp of juice before finishing the meaty deliciousness on his plate. With a sigh, he sits back and watches Cas pay attention to his own food, the way he carefully selects where to bite next, how his cheek puffs out while he chews on one side.

When Cas reaches for his glass, he looks up and catches Dean watching. Eyes widening, Cas licks crumbs from his bottom lip. ”What is it, Dean?”

Dean shrugs. “Not ready to get up yet, I guess. Probably should though, if these pills are going to make me sleepy like the hospital stuff did.”

Cas pushes up from the table. “I can help.”

Dean waves him off. “Nah. I just gotta…” He places his hands on the table and pushes back, before rocking out of the chair with a groan. His ribs twinge a little, but he’ll be fine. Just needs a nap. “See? Did it all by myself.”

A look Dean can’t decipher flashes across Cas’ face. “I understand. If you need anything, I will be here.” Cas looks down at his sandwich.

Too tired to figure out what just happened, Dean gets to the hallway and realizes he’s made a mistake. He looks over his shoulder and calls out, “Hey, where am I sleeping, anyway?”


	4. Chapter 4

Dean wakes up a little disoriented until he remembers he’s at Jody’s. There’s soft light filtering through curtains, and wood furniture in a room that doesn’t have that smell he now associates with the hospital. Groaning, Dean rolls over to the edge of the bed and levers himself to standing. He’s really gotta piss.

Luckily, the bathroom here is easy to find. While washing his one good hand, Dean takes a good look at himself in the mirror. There’s a bandage over his temple, and fading, yellowed bruises along a cheekbone, staining his jaw. The bites on his neck and upper shoulder are covered with large bandages, and he dreads seeing what’s underneath. He reaches for a towel and gets a good whiff of himself, realizing that he could use a shower. Looking down at the fiberglass cast, he sighs. Maybe a bath.

Since Cas has been weird about helping Dean into his clothes, he fights with his clothing himself while the tub fills. A satisfied sigh escapes him as he relaxes against the back of the tub. Thankfully, it faces the right way, so his bound arm can rest on the outer edge. Even though he imagines he’d love to feel hot water pounding on his shoulders and back, this is a good second option to having to try to put on the waterproof coverings he’d been told about using. He avoids looking at his splotchy colored ribcage and opts to watch the steam rise and curl from the water.

The water is starting to get cold when there’s a knock on the bathroom door. “Dean?” Cas calls through it.

“Yeah?”

“Just making sure you’re alright in there.”

“I’m fine. Getting out soon, though.”

There’s a lengthy pause, and Dean thinks Cas has moved on when he hears, “Are you going to need help getting dressed?”

With a rueful smile and shake of his head, Dean replies, “If I need help I’ll call for you, okay?”

“Okay. Just be careful.”

Grunting in reply, Dean grabs the washcloth and finishes washing up. He doesn’t wash his hair, but he thinks it will be fine for now, and he’ll use the waterproof cast and bandage covers next time. Drying off and getting dressed, he takes what feels like twice as long as he should, but if Cas is uncomfortable about helping, Dean’s not going to force the guy to do it.

An hour before Jody gets home, Cas busies himself in the kitchen, the smell of the roast tantalizing Dean’s appetite. Cas is insistent that the duty of finishing preparations for dinner is his responsibility, so Dean ends up parked in a recliner, watching TV. When Jody comes home, Cas bustles around the dining table with a basket of rolls and a bowl of salad. He tells Jody he doesn’t know how to serve the roast, and Dean gives up watching TV to go watch them divide up portions into large bowls.

Dean’s practically drooling when he sees the tender beef, the chunks of carrot and potato, the brown sauce it all swims in. Jody looks up at him with a smile, and asks, “Hey, you want a beer?”

Cas frowns at her and says, “You know he can't take alcohol with his medication, Jody.”

She waves an open hand at Dean. “Really? You’re telling me this guy can’t handle one beer with a meal.”

That’s when Cas gets this _look_. It’s hard to describe, but he lowers his chin, and almosts seems to puff up or something. And his eyes. One eyebrow cocked, he… Well, the only thing he can think of is that Cas looks _stern_. And that’s weird, because Dean watched Jody stare Sam down in his hospital room, in spite of their height difference.

“Fine, fine.” Jody waves at Cas in dismissal, turning to Dean. “If you have a beer, you’re off your prescription meds tonight.”

Dean weighs his options. He knows what beer is, and thinks he’d like one. But will his ribs appreciate that, if he can’t take his pain medication? It’s the weirdest thing, too, the longer he thinks about it, the more he _wants_ that beer. Spooked by his own visceral reaction, he looks up to see both Jody and Cas staring at him with questioning looks.

“Um,” he scratches his arm just above the cast. “What else do we have to drink?”

In the end, both Dean and Cas have grape sodas, and Jody pours her beer in a glass in spite of Cas’ reproachful looks. Whatever weirdness still clinging dissolves with his first bite of roast beef. It’s so good he doesn’t even have words. Raising his head from his bowl after stuffing a chunk of meat-juice soaked roll into his mouth, Dean sees Cas smiling, a forgotten forkful of salad halfway to his mouth.

“What?”

Cas just shakes his head and shoves the fork into his mouth, looking down into his own bowl. A glance to his right reveals Jody taking a long drink from her glass.

“I tell you what,” she says, once she puts the glass down, “Should have seen Sam his first night here. That boy acted like he’d never eaten before, and it was just chicken.” She gives him an indulgent smile. “It’s nice seeing people appreciate my cooking.” Jody points at Dean. “Just don’t get any on my table.”

Dean finishes his pot roast and then picks at his salad. It doesn’t taste nearly as good. But what he does manage to eat has Jody and Cas both grinning like there’s a secret joke somewhere. Whatever.

While Jody and Cas clean up, Dean settles on the couch. He flips through channels on the TV, realizing he has absolutely no idea what anything is. There’s a hospital show featuring an attractive doctor making out with an equally attractive nurse, some kind of survival competition, a police drama based in Hawaii. Frustrated, Dean stops on a channel that shows somebody’s bathroom being torn apart, with the hosts talking about what they’re going to change. This is at least simple enough he can follow along, even though he doesn’t understand why they tore apart a perfectly good bathroom, apparently just to change it around.

During a commercial for Home Depot, Cas comes in and hands Dean a pill and a glass of water. Dean takes them, pops the pill and chases it with the water. Cas stands off to the side, head turned towards the TV. Leaning over to set the water down, Dean shifts to the right with a pained grunt. He’d been taking up the middle of the couch.

“Have a seat, Cas.”

Cas turns his head back to Dean, a crease between his brows.

“Unless you don’t want to. I dunno.”

Dean shrugs one shoulder and turns back to the TV where they’re putting down new tile. He avoids looking up as Cas slowly lowers himself onto the couch. They sit in silence while the narrator keeps up a constant flow of chatter when the hosts aren’t talking about what color or design whatever’s going to be. When he sees Jody passing by out of the corner of his eye, Dean turns to her.

“Hey, you hear from Sam?” For some reason, knowing if Sam’s okay is important to him.

Jody stops and raises her eyebrows. “Um, I think he said he’d call later. I can let you know when he does?”

Nodding, Dean turns back to the TV. “That’d be great, thanks.”

A couple times during the rest of the remodeling program, Cas starts to ask questions, and then stops, maybe realizing Dean can’t answer them. The show comes to an end, the homeowners happy with the changes to their bathroom. Handing the remote over to Cas, Dean shifts to face him.

“So did I used to do stuff like that? It seemed like you wanted to ask me about whatever was happening.”

Cas blinks at him, before staring at the remote clutched in his hand. “I know you did some construction work for a short time, a few years ago. You weren’t like the people on TV though.”

Nodding, Dean absorbs the little bit of information he was able to get out of Cas. Not wanting to push the issue right now, he nudges Cas with his elbow. “Well, you’ve got the remote, it’s your turn.”

There’s a button that Cas pushes, and a list of everything currently on pops up. He’ll have to remember that one. There’s a whole lot of scrolling, and Dean stops trying to recognize anything about the titles. Finally, Cas stops, and he pauses longer than normal. He clears his throat. Dean looks at the highlighted show, called “Grimm”. It’s apparently some kind of supernatural drama about a guy who fights monsters, based on the summary.

“That what you want to watch, Cas?”

He sees Cas’ hand twitch where it’s gripping the remote. “Well, it’s a rerun from last season, and I haven’t watched any of it, but... “ Cas glances at him. “I’m interested to see if it’s any good.”

Dean nods and sinks back against the couch. It’s something neither of them will recognize, so there’s less pressure. With a push of a button, they both try to figure out what’s going on. Dean thinks the show’s OK, but Cas keeps stiffening and making these noises like he’s displeased by the show.

During a commercial break, Dean says, “You don’t have to keep watching it if you don’t like it.”

Cas presses his lips together and makes what Dean is quickly beginning to think of as his thoughtful face. “It’s not that I don’t like it, but… Don’t you think the monsters have something _off_ about them?”

“I don’t know, man. I mean, they change from human to monster with like, this little shake thing, but what are you aiming at?”

Cas’ expression falls. “The monsters on this show aren’t… aren’t what I’m used to seeing.”

“You like monster shows, Cas? Do you watch a lot of them? Did _I_? Is that what this is about?” Dean wonders if this is something they used to do together.

“It’s not that, Dean. I just—” Cas looks at the TV and lets out a breath. “I never watched much television, but I know you did. As for the monsters… I guess you could say we both grew up with stories of how they were a certain way.” He turns to look at Dean. “Seeing them not behaving how I’ve… read about, doesn’t seem right, I guess.”

Dean waves his good arm at the TV, where a car commercial is playing. “You can change the channel if you want to, I don’t mind.”

Cas’ expression shifts, starting with his eyes, where these creases form, and then down to his mouth where a small smile forms. “I think I’d like to at least finish the episode.”

Nodding, Dean smiles at Cas in return, and gives his knee a pat. “Sounds like a plan.”

Unfortunately, Dean’s medication has other plans, and he soon finds his eyelids drooping. He’s comfortable, Cas a solid warmth to his left, the couch cushions soft and conforming beneath him. Maybe he’ll just close his eyes for a bit, let them relax, and just listen to the show. Just for a little while.

“Dean?”  

“ _Dean_.”

He jerks into consciousness, his ribs giving a dull throb in protest. Seems he did more than just close his eyes. There’s a cooling patch of drool on his chin, and when he wipes it away, Dean can see where he’d gotten some on Cas’ shoulder, too. Groggily, he wipes at it.

“Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“That’s alright,” Cas pushes himself off the couch. “I just desperately need to relieve myself. I’ll help you get to bed when I finish.”

Dean grunts in affirmation as Cas rushes off to go pee. Smacking his lips and looking round the room, it’s dark and quiet with the TV turned off. There’s a clock softly ticking, but he can’t see the hands to tell how long he’s been asleep. He figures getting up shouldn’t require assistance, so he braces himself and rocks forward to get up. But the couch sits low, and he’s still a bit drowsy, so he doesn’t make it very far before plopping back down in his seat.

When Cas gets back, he flips on a light in the hallway, and Dean sits frowning at his legs like they’ve betrayed him. “Are you alright?” Cas asks.

Dean’s lips twitch downward in frustration before he looks back up at Cas. “Yeah, I’ll just be glad when I’m not all banged up and weak any more.”

As he holds out his hand for Cas to grab, he notes the there-and-gone-again frown Cas makes, before grabbing Dean’s forearm and hauling him to his feet. He’s a little off-balance, so Cas places a steadying hand on his shoulder, and leads him to his room.

“Sorry you’ve gotta help me with everything,” Dean mumbles before they reach his door.

Cas shakes his head and replies, “No, it’s no imposition, Dean.” They stop at his door, and Cas blinks before turning the knob and pushing it open. “I’m happy to be of some use to you.”

The way he said that has Dean looking at Cas, who removes the brace of his arm and steps back. The words feel weighted, and he wishes he could discern their meaning. But it’s late and he’s sleepy, so he brushes it aside for now, and leans on the doorframe. “Right. Well Cas, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Cas nods, and half-turns away. “Yes. Good night, and sleep well.” But he doesn’t leave, he stands there and watches Dean.

Dean figures Cas is going to wait until he’s through the door and on the way to bed without falling down, so he gives a half smile and lumbers into his room. What he’s wearing is comfortable, so he pushes back the covers and sits down heavily on the mattress. Looking up, he sees Cas’ shadow disappear down the hall before the light goes out. There’s a small, shell-shaped light plugged into an outlet, casting a feeble glow around his room; it’s just enough to keep from bumping into things.

Easing back onto the bed and slipping his legs in between the sheets, Dean stares up at the ceiling and thinks about what little he’s learned about himself and loved ones today. He closes his eyes and wonders if he’ll ever remember who he used to be.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day starts much like the last, except he’s less disoriented. This time, after washing his hands, Dean looks past the bandages and fading bruises to the features of his face. He’s looked at himself before, in the mirror at the hospital when he’d been allowed to get up and go to the bathroom himself, and yesterday. But before, he’d only seen a stranger looking back at him. Now, he takes the time to familiarize himself with the shape of his jaw, the pattern of facial hair growth, the small scar on his chin. He makes a note to ask how that happened. Forcing a smile, he notes the creases and dips of his face, the lines around his eyes.

His hospital paperwork lists him at thirty four years old. Absently, he wonders how old Cas, Sam, and Jody are. Leaning closer, he can make out freckles all over. There’s a slightly crooked bump on his nose, and he wonders if it’s been broken. Just another item to add to the list of things to ask about; like the tattoo of a flaming star on his chest. He leans closer and looks at the color of his eyes, taking in the mottled green and flecks of gold.

With a sigh, Dean closes his eyes and runs his fingers through his hair. What have those eyes seen? Who was the man behind them? His fingers come back with an oily film, and he decides it’s time for a shower. The waterproofing kit for his cast is here, under the sink, but he’ll need help putting it on and taking it off. The bandages probably need changing, too. After another look at himself in the mirror, staring hard into his eyes, he goes to find Cas.

Cas is curled up in the armchair by the window, reading a book. Dean clears his throat, which has Cas looking up. “Good morning, Dean. Did you sleep well?”

Dean nods, and waits for Cas to bookmark his page before answering. “Yeah, slept good. I, uh, was wanting to take a shower, but need help getting the cast cover on.”

“Of course.” Cas puts down his book, and follows Dean back into the bathroom.

Both of them in the narrow room feels like close quarters, and Dean leans back against the counter as Cas pulls out a hideous looking, vaguely arm-shaped, blue bag-thing. Cas examines it, then figures out how it works, holding open the end where Dean’s arm’s supposed to go. Ugh, the thick plastic’s going to make his hand almost useless.

“Wait a sec, let me get my shirt off first.” With his good arm, Dean slips his shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Cas focuses on Dean’s arm, which allows Dean to pay attention to Cas’ face, similar to the way he did his own in the mirror earlier. He has darker hair, and while freshly shaven, Dean can see the shadow of stubble that will form later in the day. He has wide, creased lips, and a cleft chin. His eyes are heavy-lidded, offset by cheekbones that add to his expressive features. Taking in the creases under and around his eyes, Dean wonders if Cas is older than him.

The cuff of Dean’s cast cover in place, Cas looks up, and Dean’s caught by the color of his eyes. He’s noticed them before, the deep blue of them nothing like his own. He feels like he could find answers in those depths, if he only knew how to find them.

“Dean?” Cas breathes the word out like it has depth and meaning, and Dean looks away, suddenly embarrassed to be caught staring.

“Yeah, sorry.” He can’t think of anything else to say, so he just bites his lip and stares at the floor. It doesn’t stop him from noticing Cas’ posture change, back to the stiff and awkward way he was in the hospital when they left. Letting out a breath, Dean looks back up at him and asks, “Can you help me with my bandages?”

Cas nods stiffly, and tentatively reaches up to touch the bandage at Dean’s temple. Dean leans forward in acceptance. It’s while Cas is dealing with the one at his neck that Dean catches  his reflection in the mirror and remembers one of the questions he was meaning to ask.

“Hey, Cas? What’s with the tattoo?”

“Hmm?” Pausing, Cas’s eyes flick to the black lines that radiate below his collarbone. “You had it when I met you.”

“Okay, but do you know what it means?”

There’s a painful tug as Cas rips off some tape a bit too fast. “It’s a symbol of protection, both you and Sam have one.”

Oh. Dean’s eyes travel to where the collar of Cas’ faded, pale blue button-up is open past the first two buttons, and he asks, “Do you have any tattoos?”

Cas pulls his hands away from Dean, the last of the bandages removed. “Yes, it’s also a protection symbol, but of a different design.”

Curious, Dean asks, “Can I see it?”

Hand hovering over his lower abdomen, Cas looks back at Dean with a crease between his brows. “I don’t see why not.”

Lifting up his shirt, he shows a rectangle of mysterious black symbols on his skin, along his left side, below his ribs. It’s a lot more ink than what Dean has, and he curls his fingers in to avoid reaching out to touch. “Wow,” is all he can think to say.

That awkward tension he doesn’t understand is building up between them again, so he leans back, and tilts his head toward the bath. ”I should, uh…”

Cas briefly flicks his eyes up at Dean’s before turning away. “Yes, of course. Let me know when you’re finished, I will help remove the sleeve and reapply bandages as necessary.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean calls out to his retreating back.

Something that sounds like “You’re welcome,” tumbles out of Cas’ mouth before he closes the door without looking back.

Wondering just what he does to make Cas get all withdrawn like that, Dean turns on the shower. Is it just Cas, or something Dean’s done in the past to make him act that way? While the water heats up, he thinks about it as he pushes down his sweatpants and kicks them to the side, wondering if they’ve ever fought, how long they’ve known each other, if they’d go do stuff together. As soon as he’s under the hot water, he can feel his muscles relax under the beat of the spray.

Taking his time relaxing under the water, he looks at the shelf with all the bottles of soaps. During his bath yesterday, he’d felt intimidated by the collection of different bottles, so he had stuck with just using bar soap. Now, he explores his options. He pops the lids on creamy shampoos and liquid body washes; some smell fruity, others floral. One in particular draws Dean’s attention. It’s in a clear bottle, and the purple lid matches the translucent contents. Its label reads “Freshwater Waves,” and it doesn’t smell like flowers or food. The label says it has sandalwood and lime along with whatever sea breeze supposedly smells like, and it leaves a pleasing scent behind on his skin. He washes his entire body with it, including his hair. By the time he’s done, the whole shower is filled with the fragrance, and Dean lingers under the water for a moment more.

While he’s toweling off, Dean realizes he forgot to bring clean clothes with him. His sweats and shirt were good two days in a row, but the thought of putting them back on after such a shower makes him cringe. He’ll have to call for Cas to get him something clean to wear. While he’s thinking about how to get the guy’s attention, Cas knocks on the door, startling him.

“Dean? I brought you some clean clothes.”

“Ahh, thanks, I forgot to bring some with me.”

There’s an uncomfortably long pause. “Will you need any assistance?”

Uhh… “I got them on okay last time. If I need help I can call for you, though?”

Another pause. “Alright. But at least have me help you with the bandages.”

Dean grunts an affirmative, then realizes he needs to open the door to get his clothes. Tucking the towel around his waist with effort one-handed, he opens the door, feeling the chill of the non-steamy hallway air curl against his damp skin. Cas is standing there, holding folded sweatpants and a shirt. Using his cast-bound arm, Dean scoops the clothes up and says, “Just a minute, I’ll let you know when I’m done,” before closing the door against the chill of the hallway.

It takes him a while to get dressed, the steam making the clothes stick to his skin adding to the one-handed challenge. Once he finally finishes, he opens the door and sticks his head out into the hallway.

“All done!”

Cas pokes his head around the corner and joins him in the bathroom.

After he removes the waterproof cast covering, Cas helps Dean replace the bandages over only the wounds they both feel still need covering. The one at his temple isn’t so bad, but Cas says the ones at his neck and the back of his head still should be covered. Seeing the stitches and nasty bite pattern on his neck, Dean agrees. While Cas tapes a bandage in place, he asks, “Did you use the Freshwater bodywash?”

“The purple one? Yeah. Smelled good.”

Dean catches a small smile on Cas’ lips as he tears a fresh strip of medical tape. “That one’s mine,” Cas says.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, it suits you.” Cas briefly places a hand on Dean’s arm. “Please. Feel free.”

Dean’s glad that Cas doesn’t mind, but he might use less of it in the future. At least until he can get his own.

The rest of the day is kind of uneventful, with Cas reading, Dean napping off and on with daytime TV playing in the background.

When Jody gets home, Cas helps her make burgers. Dean’s still not allowed in the kitchen, so he keeps his butt settled on the couch cushion. While they eat, Dean decides that burgers are another food he likes very much. He notices Cas only eats about half of his before pushing his plate away with a sigh. When asked about it, Cas mentions that while it’s very good, he just doesn’t have much of an appetite. It’s interesting to watch him nibble at the edges before Jody tells him he doesn’t have to finish it.

“But it’s a waste of food.”

“Then wrap it up and eat it later.”

Dean stares at Cas’ half-eaten burger, and says around his own mouthful, “I’ll finish it.”

Jody throws up her hands, and Cas gets this small smile as he slides his plate over.

As soon as  Dean shoves the last bite of burger into his mouth, Jody’s phone rings; it’s Sam. After a brief relayed “hello,” Jody slinks off to another room to talk to him. Not thinking much of that, except glad Sam’s OK, he helps clear the table. Cas tries to deny him but Dean knows, even without a memory, that he should be helping out around the place, with Jody feeding and housing him and everything.

Just as they finish, Jody comes back in and thanks them for cleaning up. “Oh, Sam had to go, but he should be getting back some time tomorrow afternoon. He’s looking forward to seeing you.”

“Okay.” Dean nods, feeling a little dejected that Sam didn’t want to say it directly to him. “We’re getting ready to watch some TV, you wanna join in?”

Jody screws her mouth to the side in thought. “No, I have some paperwork to get done, so I’ll just call it a night for now.”

“Sure, good night, Jody.” Dean leans over and gives her a half-hug with his good arm.

Cas bids her good night as well, and they go settle on the couch, Dean goes right back to where his pillow and blanket nest was formed earlier that day. When Cas comes in, he starts to head to the recliner, but Dean lifts his legs and says, “You can sit with me, if you want to.”

It’s only a moment of hesitation before Cas comes over, grasps Dean’s ankles, and sinks into the couch with Dean’s legs draped over his lap. They watch whatever’s on, until Dean drifts off to sleep again. This time when he wakes he’s alone, and there’s an afghan draped over him. He doesn’t bother getting up, and falls back asleep with a smile on his face.

Jody getting ready for work wakes him up, since he fell asleep in the living room. He lies there listening to the sounds of her shuffling back and forth, the coffee maker gurgling, her preparing a quick breakfast. After Jody leaves, it’s not long before Cas makes his way out, hair bed-mussed, as he scuffs across the floor in his quest for coffee.

Dean waits until Cas has had his first sip, and carefully pulls himself up into a sitting position. “Hey.”

Cas jumps and spills coffee on the counter. “Oh, Dean. I forgot. My apologies, I sort of thought you’d make your way to bed.”

“Nah, the couch is pretty comfy.”

Cas wipes up his spill with a dishcloth, nodding. “Would you like some breakfast?”

After Cas makes a simple breakfast of cheesy toast and eggs, they eat in the living room, Cas indulging Dean’s request to not have to get up yet. Dean comes to terms with the idea of spending another day on the couch, flipping through channels aimlessly while Cas does stuff around the house.

It’s late morning, and Cas is in the recliner, reading a magazine. Dean’s bored and he turns his head, looking at the man quietly reading. “Hey, Cas?”

Blinking, Cas looks up from the magazine. “Yes, Dean?”

He’s been thinking about this a while, with Jody leaving for work every day, and Dean figures it’s just best to ask. They can’t keep avoiding his questions forever. “What did I do for a living?”

Cas stares back at him with a startled expression. “I, uhm…” He glances down at the magazine.

“Aw, come on.” Dean’s going to push a little on this. “It’s not gonna hurt to tell me what my job was, right? Do I have a boss? Are they expecting me back?”

Cas opens and closes his mouth a couple times, glances back down at the magazine, then haltingly answers, “Bounty hunter?”

The only recognition Dean gets from that, is the program he saw on TV earlier, involving a burly man with long blond hair tracking down people. “Really?”

Cas seems to gain a level of confidence. “Technically, bailbondsman. Both you and Sam would go around and catch... criminals.”

The thought appeals to Dean, and it would explain their close connection to the Sheriff. “So was I good at what I did?”

Cas gives him a soft smile. “Yes, Dean, you were. Very good.”


	6. Chapter 6

Sam arrives mid-afternoon, and Dean gets up off the couch (slowly) to welcome him home with a hug, which is returned with an awkward pat. Wow, his brother is tall. When he pulls away, Dean leans back to look up at him and asks, “You catch any bad guys?”

Sam straightens, and his tired-looking eyes widen. “Dean. Do you remember?”

“No, Cas told me.” Dean notices how Sam’s eyes narrow as they flick to stare at Cas, mouth drawn in a thin line, jaw tight.

He feels Cas slide closer. “Yes, I told him about how you are both bailbondsmen who hunt fugitives.”

Sam’s mouth draws in even further, lips pursed as he lets that sink in. Finally, Sam lets out a long breath. “Yeah, okay.” his shoulders slump, and he takes a step back. “Listen, I’ve been driving for hours. You mind if I get a shower and crash for a bit?”

With a nod, Dean says, “Sure, not like I’ve been doing much else other than sleep and watch TV. Must have been a rough trip, you look beat.”

“Um, yeah…” Sam pauses, squares his jaw. “Cas, can I talk to you?” He leads Cas into one of the bedrooms before closing the door.

Through the door, Dean can hear their voices. He can just make out their heated but quiet exchange, not quite able to make out what they’re saying. After a moment where he considers pressing his ear to the door, Dean shakes himself and heads to the kitchen for a glass of water. They wanted privacy for a reason, and he’ll at least give them that much. What could they possibly be arguing about though? Telling Dean about what they do for a living? What’s so wrong with that? Why isn’t he supposed to know? With a frustrated grunt, Dean tosses a couple ice cubes into his glass before filling it from the sink.

He hears a bedroom door open and close, then the front door, forcefully. Peeking around the wall, Dean can see Cas pacing in the front yard. Concerned, Dean sets down his glass and goes out the door, stepping onto the sun-warmed front walkway with his bare feet. He’s briefly distracted by the large black car parked in the driveway, because it looks all huge and sleek, a little out of place almost; but he refocuses on Cas, who has slowed his pace, but with his hands still balled into fists. With a tentative step into the cool grass, Dean cradles his bound arm with the other. Trying to figure out how to break the tension, an idea strikes him.

“Hey, you wanna go for a walk, Cas?”

Cas glances up, and Dean can see his hands loosen at his sides. “A walk?”

“Yeah. Looks like Sam’s gonna be down for a while, and at least until he goes to sleep, we can keep the house quiet by being out of it?”

Cas levels a look at him. “You want to go on a walk. With me. Just because.”

“Yeah, why not? You don’t like exercise?”

That gets a humored snort out of Cas, who walks over to him. Dean seems to have inadvertently made a joke, but he’s glad to see some of the tension leave Cas’ shoulders. With a look at Dean’s feet, Cas says, “We should get some shoes on first.”

They go back inside, and Cas helps Dean with socks and sneakers, as well as a sling to support his broken arm. With a small set of keys on a silver ring in hand, Cas leads Dean to the door before pausing, then dashing back to the kitchen to write something on a notepad. After tossing the note on the dining table, Cas rejoins him at the door.

“Are you ready?” Cas asks.

“As I can be, I guess,” Dean replies.

They’re walking past the black car, Sam’s, Dean assumes, when Cas asks, “Are you sure you don’t want to drive?”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying I _can_ drive?”

“Of course you can drive.” Cas tilts his head. “If you like, I can get the keys.”

Dean’s eyes slide along the smooth lines of the car, feeling some kind of unnameable visceral response to its slightly dusty gloss and chrome, before returning to Cas. “No, not right now. I’ve spent too long either sitting or sleeping; stretching my legs will be good for me.”

Giving him a small, bemused smile, Cas turns and leads him to the end of the driveway. After looking right and then left, Cas turns left. “While some exercise is good for you, and recommended by the doctor, I think we’ll start off with an easy walk around the neighborhood first.”

About halfway down the second street, Dean’s glad Cas wasn’t planning on going very far. His ribs are starting to protest, and his shortness of breath is making him light-headed. Cas slows down, and leads Dean to a nearby park, where he gladly sits down on a wooden bench. Leaning back against the back, he watches as Cas heads over to a small, green building and comes back with a bottle of water from the vending machine. It’s quiet, only a few children playing on the swingset, a lone person walking their dog at the other end of the small park.

Opening the water and taking a sip, Dean hands the bottle back to Cas. “You must be thirsty too, here.”

Cas accepts the bottle, staring at the mouth of it before looking back up at Dean. Raising his eyebrows, Dean stares right back. What, does he have cooties or something? Finally, Cas takes a small sip and hands the bottle back to Dean, who takes another large mouthful.

They sit on the bench for a while, watching as a couple of the children leave, and the dog walker travels out of sight. It’s nice, sitting there listening to the sounds of birds chirping, children playing, cars driving by. Cas is the first one to break their silence.

“I remember the first time we sat together in a park like this.”

“Really?” Dean turns his head to look at Cas. “Tell me about it?”

Cas glances at him before leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and a furrowed brow. “It was about five years ago, around Halloween. We hadn’t known each other long.” He swallows and clasps his hands. “You’d just finished a difficult job, having just dealt with a terrible… assignment.”

There’s a long pause, and Dean prompts him to continue. “Yeah?”

Cas turns his head and looks Dean in the eyes. “It was the first time I opened up to you, the first time I let my guard down.” Cas opens one of his hands and looks down at it. “At the time, you could say I was more than a little ‘uptight’.”

Dean smiles at the admission. “So, what? Were you a bounty hunter, too?”

Cas frowns and stares out at the park. “No. I would sometimes assist your missions, but… I guess you could say I worked for a different branch of law enforcement.”

“Worked? You stopped?”

With a small chuff of a laugh, Cas leans back. “I left because of the corruption. There was too much abuse of power, and my attempts to put things right... Well, I suppose you could say they backfired on me.”

“Oh.” Dean blinks, and looks down at the water bottle in his hand, watching the half-empty contents slosh around. “So what was your last job, before coming to help take care of me?”

He sees Cas’ back straighten. “Sales associate at the Gas n’ Sip in Rexford, Idaho. I had the responsibility of many important duties there,” he says with pride.

Sure, Dean can’t remember anything about his own life, but he’s pretty sure that Cas’ job was not so great. Still, he feels bad that Cas lost it. “Sorry I’m the reason you had to leave all that.”

“Oh no, Dean. If given the choice, I would gladly choose you over staying there again,” Cas rushes out. He takes a breath and continues, “Jody has been more than kind, allowing me to stay.” There’s that strange weight to Cas’ words again.

Dean nods. Jody’s put up with two men - now three - coming into her home and eating her food. He’ll have to make sure Sam gives her some kind of payment in return. “Hey, you know, I’m not a complete invalid, and don’t need constant watching. If you want, you could find something part-time around here?”

Cas tilts his head, as if examining the idea from a different angle. It seems to be his thing. “Thank you, Dean, I hadn’t considered that. I will bring it up to Jody, and see if she has any suggestions.”

The smile that lights Cas’ face is beautiful, transforming his face into a new terrain of dips and ridges, and Dean stares at the man maybe longer than he should. But the bench underneath his butt isn’t comfortable for sitting on long, and they should be heading back soon. While it’s still early autumn, the leaves of a few trees are starting to change, and as it gets later Dean can feel the air begin to cool as the shadows lengthen. Placing the water bottle on the bench, he braces his good hand on Cas’ knee and gives a grunt as he stands. He’ll be more than happy when his damn ribs finally heal; not to mention his arm, he thinks as he stares at the forced bend of his arm, encased in a white, hard wrapping and supported by a black cloth sling.

“We should probably get back before Jody,” he says as he carefully stretches his back.

Cas nods and stands as well, grabbing the water bottle and starting back in the direction of home. _Not home_ , Dean reminds himself, just where Jody is housing them temporarily. As soon as they’re back inside, Dean heads for where they keep his prescriptions, and finds the bottle with the pain reliever that doesn’t make him sleepy. Finishing off the water bottle to swallow down an extra-strength Ibuprofen, he leans against the counter and shifts around, trying to find a comfortable position for his ribs before the pain relief sets in.

Not long after, Cas comes by, shoeless, and leads Dean to the couch, helps him settle in the cushions. Cas spends some time poking around the kitchen and dining room, setting out plates and glasses for dinner, but not cooking. When Cas finally lowers himself into the recliner, Dean asks him about that, and Cas responds that Jody’s picking something up on the way home. Oh, that’s nice. That way they only need to do the dishes, and nobody has to cook.

About an hour later, Jody arrives with both arms loaded down with plastic bags filled with containers of delicious smelling food. Cas offers to help her, and asks Dean to go wake Sam. He goes to the door he remembers from earlier, and knocks on it quietly. Not getting a reaction, he calls out, “Sam?” and opens the door.

Sam’s sleeping on his side, facing away from the shaft of light from the hallway. Stepping just inside, Dean calls out to Sam again, and sees his figure move under the blankets. “Hey, Jody brought Chinese, should probably eat while it’s hot.”

He reaches out to shake Sam awake, and before he can even touch the man’s arm, Dean finds a shining silver blade at his throat. “Whoa. Sam?”

Sam’s breathing heavily, eyes a little wild, before he realizes his surroundings and drops the arm holding a ridiculously long and oddly shaped blade. “Sorry Dean. I just… It’s been a rough few days.”

“Yeah…” Dean steps backwards toward the door on shaky legs. “Food’s on the table, so… Yeah. See you out there.”

He steps out into the hallway and quickly makes his way to the living room, his heart racing in his throat. He grabs onto the corner of the wall and tries to calm his heart rate. They’ve dealt with dangerous criminals before, and that’s why Sam reacted the way he did, Dean tells himself. You startled Sam, who had just come back from a long trip, probably catching some fugitive. It’s most likely a normal (or at least normal for us) reaction. As soon as his heart isn’t thumping, Dean follows his nose to the dining table, which is laid out with all sorts of cardboard, styrofoam, and foil dishes.

When he sits down, Cas asks him what he’d like, and with wide eyes he says, “Everything.” Cas scoops out portions of each container onto Dean’s plate, and is setting it down in front of him as Sam enters the dining room, pushing his long hair back from his face. Dean’s relieved to see Sam sit next to him, seemingly unaffected by his abrupt awakening.

Everything tastes amazing, from the tangy sauce of the orange chicken to the peppered brown sauce of the broccoli beef, the creamy insides of the crab rangoons. They tell him the names of what he’s eating as he goes, and he devours the moo goo gai pan, potstickers, and some kind of fried tofu in a brown sauce that’s different from the beef. The rice and noodles are annoying while eating with his non-dominant hand, but he makes a good showing. Stomach full, Dean stubbornly munches on an eggroll while leaning back in his seat.

Cas seems to notice his discomfort, and tells him he shouldn’t have eaten so much. Sam mentions it’s a lot less than he used to eat, which gets a sharp look from Jody. “What? At least he’s eating the vegetables instead of picking out all the meat.”

This earns twin disparaging looks from both Jody and Cas. Interesting. So normally he’s a picky eater? Dean looks down at what's left on his plate. Sure, he ate almost all the meat and left some of the greener things behind, but it wasn’t like they tasted bad, especially covered in sauce. Cas lets out a heavy sigh. “I hope that what Sam said doesn’t discourage you from continuing to try new foods, Dean.”

Frowning, Dean looks up from his plate to Cas. “Why would it?”

“Your eating habits before, were rather abysmal,” Cas glances at Sam, who slumps in his seat. “And you mainly subsisted on fried and greasy fast foods. We were hoping you would learn to enjoy a variety of things while you couldn’t remember.”

“Crap,” comes Sam’s voice from next to him. “I’ve been trying to get him to eat healthier for years, and you’re telling me I sabotaged myself?”

Okay, Dean’s had enough. He’s tired of learning about bits and pieces of himself while people carefully tiptoe around the subject. “Hey, guys? I have a question.”

The room falls silent, three pairs of eyes trained on  him. “So.” Dean pushes his fork through some of the rice on his plate. “Was I like, a major asshole or something?” They stare at him silently, seemingly in shock. “Because nobody’s willing to really tell me anything about myself, and some of what I’ve found out so far, doesn’t paint the nicest picture. So what gives?”

All three of them talk at once, and he can’t make heads or tails of what they’re saying. “Stop!” Their chatter falls silent. “One person at a time. Sam?”

Sam nods, and wipes his mouth with a napkin before turning in his seat to face Dean. “We’ve both had a rough life, and when you couldn’t remember any of it, I think we all saw it as an opportunity for you to experience what normal life could be.” He tilts his head in Jody and Cas’ directions, and Dean can see them both nod in his peripheral vision.

“We didn’t mean to lie to you,” Sam continues, “We just wanted to let you have a chance at being happy.”

Frowning, Dean takes in the anxious expressions of the others at the table, the sad, wide eyes of his brother. “If I was so miserable, why did I keep doing whatever was making me unhappy? Was it the bounty hunting?”

Jody’s eyes widen in surprise and she looks between Sam and Cas, who gives her a small nod. “Dean,” Cas says, “It was all you’d ever known. You tried to settle down before, but it didn’t end well.”

A discussion on the couch about a profession Dean briefly held comes to the surface of the few memories he has. Cas had said something about construction a few years ago. Maybe it was then? “Yeah, well…” He knows they’re just trying to protect him, but still. “How about, if I ask for info, you give it? I don’t like feeling like you’re hiding things from me.” He doesn’t miss the fact that both Cas and Sam wince in response to that.

Satisfied with his little speech, Dean slides his chair back, and it makes a groaning screech against the wood floor. He pushes himself to standing and glances at the faces of the others still seated. “Now if you don’t mind, I think I ate too much, and need to stretch out on the couch for a while, I think.”

He falls asleep while watching some talent contest on TV. When he wakes up, Sam’s in the recliner, and Cas has Dean’s legs across his lap, hands warm on his shins. They’re watching the late news, and the anchor is talking about missing persons, the two most recent being a couple about to be married. With a groan, Dean stretches and looks over at Sam. He still has dark circles under his eyes, and the stubble along his angular jaw makes him look a little gaunt.

“Man, you look like you still need to sleep. Go on to bed.”

Sam blinks, head snapping up almost as if he’d dozed off with his eyes glazed over. “Yeah, I probably should.”

Dean watches as he takes his time standing up. “Are you sure you weren’t injured in the animal attack?”

“Huh?” Sam stares at him blankly for a brief moment before straightening. “Yeah, but… I was pretty sick not too long ago, and I think my body’s just taking a while to bounce back.”

Snorting, Dean wriggles his legs on Cas’ lap. “You should take a vacation while I’m out of commission, Sam. Take the time to rest up and get better, too.”

Sam makes it to the hallway before turning around and looking back at Cas. “Hey, Cas? Where are you planning to sleep while I’m here?”

Cas blinks up at Sam. “I hadn’t given it any thought, honestly. If you get me an extra blanket, I suppose the floor will suffice.”

What?! “Cas, you’re not sleeping on the floor,” argues Dean.

“Perhaps the recliner or sofa, when you aren’t occupying it, then?” Cas raises an eyebrow at him.

“Wait, so let me get this straight.” Dean props himself up, sliding his legs off of Cas’ lap. “You’ve both been staying with Jody, expecting me to come back here too, and nobody considered who’d be the odd man out?”

The other two men look at each other for a moment. Cas says, “Do you suppose the bed is big enough to share?”

“Um,” Sam looks away. “I’m not really a quiet sleeper. You might get punched in the face.”

Dean can’t believe they’re having this conversation right now. “I’ll sleep on the couch, and Cas can have my bed until we get an extra one. How’s that?”

Both Cas and Sam turn to him with frowns. “You really shouldn’t be sleeping on the couch, Dean,” Sam chastises.

“Cas let me last night, I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“That was one time, because I didn’t wish to disturb you. I don’t think we should make it a regular habit considering your injuries.”

They all look at each other, Cas with a grumpy frown, Sam looking like he’s about to fall asleep on his feet. Finally, with a sigh, Dean says, “Tell you what. I promise to sleep in my own bed, Cas can have the couch tonight, and we’re getting another bed for him. As soon as possible.”


	7. Chapter 7

Dean stumbles into the kitchen the next morning, to see serious faces clustered around the kitchen island. “Whoa, did someone die?”

That’s apparently exactly the wrong question, because Sam’s jaw tightens, Cas looks down into his coffee mug, and Jody clears her throat. “I need to head down to the station,” she says, gathering some papers. “I’ll talk to you later?”

Both Sam and Cas nod, and they all watch Jody leave the house, the front door shutting with a quiet thump. Suspicious, Dean turns to the two still standing there, and eyes them. “Who’s going to fill me in?”

Sam and Cas glance at each other, and then Sam starts, “Jody’s dealing with a missing persons case in one of the smaller towns.”

They tell him that another person has gone missing in Hartford, about a half hour outside of town. It was a single woman this time, and they finally caught a break because someone witnessed the abduction of the young waitress. Cas and Sam look at each other before Sam mentions that a serial abductor in the area is something that needs to be dealt with quickly.

“So, is this our kind of thing? Are we going to help?” Dean asks, looking between Cas and Sam’s serious faces.

Those two look at each other again, and that’s beginning to get irritating, like they’re figuring out what to say to him.

Sam takes a breath and says, “You really should stay behind on this one. We’re not quite sure what we’re dealing with and—”

“Aw, come on. I know what we do, I can help. Besides, I’ve been feeling better. Right Cas?” Dean looks to his friend, who refuses to look him in the eye.

“Dean, you barely made it a couple blocks on a walk yesterday, and we’re headed for a small town miles from here.” Cas manages to look him in the eye now. “If you push yourself too hard, it will only make your injuries worse.”

“Sure, fine. Just leave me here, all alone, to sit around and do nothing,” Dean pouts, arms folded across his chest.

They convince him to man the phone, and Cas promises to call if they need help. But he knows they’re just trying to placate him.

After Sam and Cas leave dressed in suits for some reason, and Sam with a suspiciously full duffle bag, Dean settles in. The rest of the day is spent moping about, and Dean takes his time with a long bath, eating leftovers, and watching TV. He doesn’t get a call all day.

Just as the sun starts to dip behind the trees, they come back, quiet and subdued. Jody acts a little stunned about something, but there are no visible injuries on any of them. After they decide to order a pizza, Cas and Sam work together in the kitchen to make a salad. Nobody really wants to talk about anything, so Dean leaves it be for now. He does bring up the bed situation to Jody after they’ve eaten though, and she promises they’ll go look for one tomorrow.

Later, the evening news mentions they’ve recovered three of the four missing people, and that the perpetrator was a woman, although they believe she had an accomplice. Well, that might explain why Jody was out of it, right? Not getting everyone back? The still missing accomplice? After all, he doubts that the woman whose picture they flashed on the screen could have abducted a couple out of their home without help.

Dean turns his head to ask Cas something, but he’s asleep, his head lolling to one side. With a small smile, he gives him a nudge, hoping to wake him, to avoid the crick in his neck he’s sure to get if he stays that way. But instead of waking up, Cas slides over until he’s leaning on Dean, his head resting on Dean’s shoulder. Unable to control the smile on his face, Dean lets him sleep like that a while longer.

Jody’s off work the next day, and she takes them bed shopping. Cas rides with Jody, and Dean rides in the big black car with Sam and experiences a strange feeling, like he knows the car, that he should be driving it. But it’s Sam’s, right? So that might explain the familiarity. When he asks Sam about it, he’s a little shocked by the reply.

“Actually, she’s yours Dean.” He sits in silence while Sam tells him about the car, and that it used to be their father’s, and it’s one of the few things they have left of his.

At the furniture store, Cas insists on a narrow twin bed, something that can fit in the corner of one of the guest bedrooms. Jody grumbles that she doesn’t see why two of them can’t bunk together, but that just earns her hard looks from both Sam and Cas, one amused and the other slightly panicked; Dean doesn’t get it, but whatever. He almost suggests sharing, his bed’s big enough, but then remembers how weird Cas gets around him when they seem to get too close, and keeps his mouth shut.

Arrangements to have the bed delivered are made, and they stop by another store for groceries. Dean stays relatively quiet during the experience, having no idea what he likes outside of what he’s already eaten. Once again, he’s struck by Jody’s generosity through all this, allowing them to stay in her home and feed them.

When they get back, Dean is made to stay out of the way while the groceries get put away, and while they rearrange Sam’s room in order to fit both beds. That's okay, because the excursion wore him out a bit, and his ribs ache. So even though he feels guilty not helping, Dean settles down on the couch with a pain pill and a glass of water.

*

Things settle into a comfortable rhythm. Sam has agreed to take a break from bounty hunting, in order to finish recuperating from whatever illness has him so tired all the time. Nobody seems to want to talk about that as much as they don’t like to talk about personal stuff with Dean, but he figures as long as long as Sam’s not pushing himself, it’s fine.

However, with this many people in the house, it gets a little claustrophobic, and Cas finds himself a job at a local diner. He doesn’t do much but wash dishes and bus tables part-time, but he says he enjoys the work. A few days after that, Sam starts getting antsy, so Jody says that they could use help on the emergency switchboard. Once again, it’s just part-time, but it keeps Sam occupied.

This often leaves Dean with too much time on his hands, and he does what he can to help keep the house clean. He can push a vacuum and a swiffer, dust one-handed, and start laundry. He can’t fold anything well with only one working arm, and can put the basket of clean clothes on everyone’s beds to be folded.

Sam and Cas take to going running together when time allows, and will take turns going on walks with Dean, depending on their schedules. He feels himself getting a little stronger every day, and pushes himself to go a little further with each walk.

When he’s alone and doing small chores, Dean starts to notice little things that don’t make sense with his limited knowledge. For instance, he accidentally flips over the welcome mat, and sees a design painted on the back of it. It looks similar to the star on his chest, but instead of flames around it, there are these weird symbols in between the points. He doesn’t mention it, remembering what Cas said about protection symbols, and figures Jody’s just religious or superstitious or something.

It’s after he notices the same design on the inside of the Impala’s trunk that he saw while watching Sam bring in groceries, the weird jar of water with a beaded necklace under the sink, and the salt in the windowsills that he finally brings up the topic. It’s taco night, and Dean’s proud of himself when he manages to eat a hard taco without spilling fillings everywhere. While Jody’s washing dishes, Dean gets a glass of water and watches as she pulls a fresh bottle of dish detergent from under the sink. Curiosity getting the better of him, he decides to ask.

“Hey, Jody?” He leans on the counter casually, taking a sip from his glass.

“Yeah?” She flicks him a look while squeezing out a dollop of soap onto a sponge.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s up with the necklace in the jar under the sink?”

Jody’s hands stop what they’re doing, and she looks straight ahead. “The necklace in the…?” Her eyes widen, and she shouts, “Sam? Can you come in here?”

Dean blinks at her and wonders why she’d need Sam to explain. Before he can ask, Sam lumbers in. “What’s up, Jody?”

She’s facing away from Dean, but he can hear an accusatory tone when she says, “Can you explain to your brother why there’s a jar of water with a rosary in it under the sink?”

Sam’s eyebrows fly up, and he glances between Dean and Jody a couple times. “Oh, yeah. That.”

Figuring now’s as good a time as any to get answers, Dean says, “And the salt on the windowsills, and the star symbols I’ve seen under the welcome mats and the car’s trunk.”

Dean’s watching Sam closely, and notices the way he shifts his weight from foot to foot, how his shoulders straighten, the expression on his face shift from guilty to resigned. It’s the same reaction whenever he asks something they don’t really want to answer. Sam nods his head toward the living room.

“May as well sit down, let Jody finish washing dishes.”

Sam waits for Dean to pass by, and follows him to the living room. Dean sits in his usual spot on the couch next to Cas, and places his water on the coffee table. He can tell Cas heard at least part of the exchange in the kitchen, because he’s sitting straighter than usual. After giving Cas’ knee a firm slap, Dean watches Sam settle on the edge of the recliner. Hoping to break the tension, Dean grins and asks, “We’re not part of a cult, are we?” There was a story on TV last week about cults.

Sam doesn’t laugh. Neither does Cas. Shit. “Uh, guys?”

Finally, Sam holds out his hands. “No, no. We’re not in a cult, or anything like that.”

“Then what is it? You’re starting to freak me out a little.”

Cas and Sam look at each other a moment. “Superstitions,” Cas says, breaking the tension. “Like the tattoos on your chests.”

The tension in Sam’s shoulders ease a little. “Well, it’s a little more than that, but basically, yeah.”

“Are we talking religion?” Dean leans back into the couch, hoping to seem more relaxed about the whole thing, because the others seem extra tense. “It doesn’t bother me, honest. I was just curious, because it’s not really something I’ve seen on TV or around town.”

Sam starts to explain about the symbols, and how they offer protection, and how after their mom died, their dad got super into it. That doesn’t explain everything, but as Sam talks, he gets less tense. And that’s why, even though he has even more questions, Dean lets it go. He’s learned that Sam really doesn’t like to talk about family.

When Sam falls silent, there’s still a bit of awkward tension, so Dean reaches for the remote, slings his arm over Cas’ shoulders, and says, “Whatcha wanna watch tonight?”

That does the trick, and after some channel surfing, they settle on that cop show in Hawaii. Dean keeps his arm slung around Cas, and they lean against each other. It took a while to get to this point, where Cas stopped tensing up when he did stuff like this.

Dean’s discovered he likes to touch, show physical affection however he can. Be it a hand on a shoulder, a hug, even just his legs across someone’s lap. He likes that sense of connection. Jody doesn’t seem to mind it, and encourages it even; she’ll give him kisses on the cheek. They’re nice. Cas and Sam though, both were startled the first few times he’d give them a hug, lean into them, or the aforementioned legs across the lap.

Of course Cas was the one who got hit with it first, so he seems happy with it now. But Sam… He doesn’t pull away from Dean’s touch, but he seems to stiffen every time. The first time Dean rested his legs across Sam’s lap he actually startled. But he’s coming around, slowly. Cas is usually the one sitting next to him anyway, and he likes that.


	8. Chapter 8

It’s been a couple weeks since Dean woke up in the hospital, and the leaves have started to change. It was a couple bushes first, and then the tops of some of the tallest trees, and now the maples are just going red and gold. Dean’s been holding up well in spite of spending most of his days doing very little, but he’s discovered the public library, and picks out a couple different books every time he goes. He also listens to music, and keeps a small radio tuned to a couple different stations, trying to figure out what he likes best.

He and Sam have just come back from a run in the crisp morning air, and they find Cas seated on the couch, elbows on his knees, and lips pressed to his clasped hands as he stares at the television. Dean and Sam look at each other before coming over to Cas to see what’s wrong. The news is on, and the announcer is talking about the weather. Surely that’s not what has Cas acting this way.

“Hey, buddy. What’s up?” Dean perches on the edge of the couch next to Cas and bumps shoulders.

Cas blinks then, and turns to face him. “Oh. You’re back.” He blinks again, and looks up at Sam. “I think I need to go.” He stands up, and heads to his and Sam’s room.

Wait, what just happened? Dean would ask Sam, except Sam follows Cas into their room and shuts the door. Dean looks at the TV, but they’re just talking about what weather to expect for the rest of the week. _Dammit, somebody needs to explain what’s going on!_

It’s a couple minutes before Sam emerges from the bedroom, a worried crease between his brows. Dean’s been fidgeting, and he meets Sam halfway across the room. “What’s happening? Is Cas alright? Is there something I can—”

“Dean.”

Sam cuts him off, and Dean looks up into his brother’s face. “Ya gotta tell me, Sam.”

Pushing his long hair back off his forehead, Sam sighs. “Cas… it’s complicated, and he’s going to go need to deal with some… family issues for a couple of days.”

Family? What family? Cas never talks about them, even when Dean’s directly asked him about the subject. He must have said some of that out loud, because Sam lays a placating hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Look, like I said, it’s complicated. You’re going to have to give him space to figure this out, okay?”

Not satisfied with the explanation, Dean shrugs off Sam’s hand and goes to sulk in his bedroom. So much for them being honest with him. But seriously, he’s worried about Cas. The fact that he never wanted to talk about his own family, and now is gonna just up and leave because of something he saw on the news? Dean rubs his good hand over his face. He needs to calm down. Something bad obviously happened, and he’s gotta be here to support Cas, just like Cas has supported him. Maybe after whatever it is is over, Cas will tell him what’s wrong.

Dean stays in his room when he hears Cas come out into the hallway and talk quietly with Sam. He has to go talk to _Sam_ , because he _remembers_ Cas’ family issues. Issues which are too complicated for Dean’s memory-addled brain right now, apparently. Pouting, he picks at the cotton around the thumb of his cast, worrying a frayed edge.

A soft knock at his door makes Dean look up to see Cas standing at the entrance with a frown. “I’m sorry, Dean, but I will have to go deal with some things for a couple of days.”

Dean waves him off. “Yeah, I get it.”

“No, Dean.” Cas comes into the room and sits next to him on the bed. “There’s been… a death in my family.” He takes a deep breath. “While we might not have been close, I have to go.”

“Aw, shit Cas, I’m sorry.” Dean’s been upset about himself, and one of Cas’ family just died. It makes him feel like an ass.

“Dean, don’t be. You can’t help not remembering.” Cas places a hand on Dean’s knee. “I shouldn’t be gone more than three days. We’ll talk more about it when I get back?”

Dean looks up into Cas’ eyes, worry shining through their blue depths. “I’ll be fine, you go take care of your family stuff, and we’ll be here for you when you get back.”

Nodding, Cas looks down into his own lap, and doesn’t make a move to leave yet. Before the silence gets awkward, Dean stands up and gives Cas his hand. He pulls him into a rough hug, and keeps his hand in Cas’ hair, their cheeks pressed together. When Cas lets out a shuddering breath, Dean lets go with a pat on his shoulder. “Drive safe, okay?”

Cas nods and says, “Of course, Dean.”

He doesn’t watch as Cas steps back out the door of his room. It only takes about an hour for Cas to get packed and Sam to help plan a route to a small town in western Wyoming. And then Cas is ready to go, wearing a suit and a tan coat. A call to Jody, and Cas has permission to use the truck she keeps in the garage.

There’s an awkward silence as Cas stands there with a duffle bag in one hand and a set of keys in the other. Then Sam goes to give him a quick hug and pat on the back. Dean just stands there, staring at Cas, who stares right back. When Sam clears his throat and gives Dean a nudge, he goes and hugs Cas again, tighter than before. He wishes he could go with him, or keep him from going. He doesn’t understand the impulse and backs away, wishing Cas safe travels.

With a wave, Cas heads out the door. They watch Jody’s beige truck pull out of the driveway and disappear around a corner. Suddenly the house feels emptier, colder.

As if Sam can tell that Dean’s missing Cas, he tries to fill the void by sharing more about their childhoods. Dean’s glad that Sam is opening up more, and listens to his brother tell him about the time they dressed up as superheroes and jumped off a shed, which resulted in Sam breaking his arm. Dean holds up his own bound arm, and Sam laughs. “It wasn’t a full arm cast, Dean. Although it was annoying, as a kid.”

He talks about their mom’s death, and how their dad never recovered. About how he’d taken them on the road, using bounty hunting to get over the grief of losing his wife and the mother of his sons. Dean wonders what kind of life that could have been, and Sam deflects, says it was a different time. “Besides, we didn’t turn out so bad.”

He has to wonder about that, considering everyone agreed to be perfectly fine with Dean forgetting himself, but whatever.

The first night after Cas is gone, Dean wakes in a cold sweat, his sheets tangled around his legs. He can’t remember what he dreamt about, but he doesn’t feel like going back to sleep any time soon. As soon as his heartbeat returns to normal, he crawls out of bed and takes a book with him to the living room.

He wakes up again when Jody gently jostles him in the recliner, the sun not quite risen yet, but a blue cast over everything. Waving off her concerned look, Dean goes back to bed and lies there until he hears Sam get up for his morning jog. When he hears the front door shut, he gets up to make some toast.

Unfortunately, when Sam gets back, he notices that Dean is quiet and withdrawn, and asks him what’s wrong. “I think I just slept badly or something, it’s not a big deal,” Dean says with irritation leaching through his voice.

“Okay,” Sam backs off. “Maybe you should mention that to the doctor tomorrow.”

Today, Sam works a late morning to evening shift on the county emergency switchboard, and he gives Dean a worried look as he heads out the door. Waving him off, Dean spends the rest of the day until late afternoon doing puzzles from a book he found at the grocery store. Before Jody is supposed to be back, Dean takes his daily walk around the neighborhood.

The day has been sunny and the air’s still warm, although there is a cooling breeze blowing through. Yet Dean finds himself walking slower today, his feet heavy, and he only makes it about half his usual distance before heading back. He blames it on his disrupted sleep from the night before.

The rest of the day is subdued, and Dean finds his appetite diminished during dinner. He glances across the table multiple times at Cas’ empty chair, and it never bothered him before when the man was just working the evening shift at the diner. Why is it different now? After, instead of watching TV, Dean decides he’s going to read a book in his room. But that doesn’t interest him long, so he gets ready for bed, and goes to sleep early.

He wakes in the middle of the night, breathing heavy like he’s been running for miles. Staring at the shadowed ceiling, Dean tries to chase down what he was dreaming about. But all he gets is flashes of tacky skin, the feeling of being strapped down, yet alternately standing over something, and holding something in his hand. That’s when he realizes that his right hand is clamped tightly enough to be painful, and he forces his fingers to uncurl, his nails leaving deep creases in the flesh of his palm. Taking a deep breath through his nose, Dean controls his breathing and tries to relax.

But of course, now he’s wide awake. This is completely ridiculous, he thinks, as he makes his way to the kitchen for a glass of water. While perusing the fridge, he finds a bottle of beer hidden deep in the back. He hasn’t had anything alcoholic since he woke up in the hospital; and Jody, for some reason, stopped drinking since their first dinner together. Looking down at the brown bottle, he wonders how long it’s been in there, hiding. There’s a desire to drink it that’s so strong, he doesn’t resist.

He twists off the lid, and sniffs the mouth of the bottle. It’s kind of fizzy, like soda, but doesn’t smell sweet. His first mouthful almost gets spit out again. Yeah, definitely not sweet. It’s bitter, and he swallows it with a grimace. As the cold liquid settles in his stomach, he stares at the white, gold and red label. Schlitz. This is what he’s been craving? A bitter brew that has an aftertaste of bread and grass?

But there’s something refreshing about it, and Dean takes another sip. This one’s just as bitter, but he finds it easier to drink. It’s not long before Dean’s finished the bottle, his belly chilled by the cold beer, and he burps up the taste of the bubbles. And now he’s got an empty bottle that he feels he needs to hide. After pushing the bottle and its cap deep into the trash can, Dean finds himself calmer, and he slinks back off to his room. With the taste of fermented grain on his tongue, Dean stares at the ceiling for a few minutes before managing to drift back to sleep.

In the morning, Dean learns the importance of brushing his teeth after a beer, his tongue fuzzy, and mouth repulsive. After breakfast, Sam takes Dean for his checkup. He’s poked and prodded, sent for x-rays, and asked a multitude of questions.

After his exam, Dean sits next to his brother while the doctor explains that Dean’s physical injuries are actually healing faster than expected. For whatever reason Sam seems alarmed by this, but the doc just says that Dean must have lived a healthy lifestyle before the accident, as well as continuing while healing. Sam scoffs, and covers it with a cough before saying that Dean has been doing everything he’s supposed to while recovering.

Luckily, the doctor says that Dean’s bones have healed well enough they can switch to a smaller cast as soon as next week. They schedule the appointment, and he can’t wait. Not only will he gain some mobility and use of his hand, but he’s gotten this cast wet a couple times. It’s starting to stink.

As for his memory… The doctor says it’s unusual to appear to not have any apparent decline in cognition and still not remember anything about himself. “I’m going to suggest a therapist, if you don’t mind.” The doctor slides across a couple of brochures. “There might be a psychosomatic cause for your memory repression, and I believe it will help.”

There are a couple more things regarding Dean’s health they go over, and Dean thanks the doc for the help. On their way out, Sam looks pensive. “What’re you thinking about, Sam?”

When Sam tries to brush it off, Dean presses the issue. “Listen.” He grabs Sam’s sleeve, and they stop just outside the doors. “I know you think I’m going to say weird shit if I start remembering in front of a therapist, but I think I can figure out what’s normal at this point, alright?” Elbowing Sam, he starts heading toward the car. “Besides, why would I want to mention any lawbreaking we might have done on the job?”

Lips pressed in a line, Sam gives him a reluctant nod. “Okay, Dean. If this is what you want.”

This just has Dean wondering what kind of crazy stories are hidden inside his brain. It’s been long enough, and the stories that have been shared with him just make Dean want to know more. So far, it hasn’t seemed too bad.

Knowing he’s healing has buoyed Dean’s spirits somewhat, and spends the rest of the day in a better mood than yesterday. He and Sam sit down on the couch together to watch TV, and he throws his legs across his brother’s lap. They get a call from Cas, and he says he should be headed back in a day or two, which just helps his mood.

That night, he dreams.

It’s dark, and there’s a metallic tang in his nose and throat. Right hand wrapped around the hilt of a knife, the floor is rough and sticky against his bare feet. A red haze hangs over everything, and there appears to be a table of some sort before him. There’s movement and a noise like a wounded animal coming from it. Creeping closer to the table, the mass of broken and bloody flesh horrifies him, and he really doesn’t want to identify whatever it its. Unbidden, his arm with the knife rises, and he doesn’t want to do what he somehow knows is going to happen, wishes he could close his eyes.

He sends out a frantic prayer to… somewhere, anyone, anything to make it stop. Just before his knife can actually touch what’s on the table, there’s a ray of light shining on him from above. It’s blue-white and blinding, and he drops the knife to shield his eyes. The source of the light gets closer, a ringing in his ears starts, and the volume increases the closer it gets.

Jerking awake, Dean blinks up at the ceiling, the sun having just risen, a rosy glow in the room. His heart isn’t pounding, and most importantly, he actually remembers what he dreamed last night. Well, mostly. It’s already fading, but he remembers being in a not good place, and there being a light. It’s weird, because he remembers being both afraid and comforted by the light, all at once. He sighs, wipes the sleep from his eyes, and rolls over to go take a morning piss. His weird dreams are just that. Dreams.

Sam’s already up and gone when Dean comes out of the bathroom. He must have had an early shift. For Dean, the day drags. Daily routine just doesn’t seem to eat up the time fast enough. Nothing on TV interests him, he gets antsy while reading, and what chores he can complete get finished way too soon while the hands on the clock seem to get stuck.

By noon, Dean takes a walk down to the corner store and picks up something premade. While going past the coolers, he thinks about grabbing another beer, his hand itching for the handle. But still a little spooked by his desire for it, he bypasses that in favor of a root beer in the soft drink section. There’s a little dark-skinned lady with an accent who takes pity on him, and she always hangs his bag of things from the wrist of his cast whenever he stops by on his own.

The taquitos are pretty good, and he eats two on his way back to the house. The rest of the afternoon until Sam comes back, he spends playing with the leaves in the yard. He doesn’t consider it raking leaves, because one-handed there’s only so much he can do, so he just kind of makes small piles all over the yard.

Sam seems distracted when he gets home, and brushes Dean’s questions off as having a couple bad calls. Working with the police and answering calls must be stressful, so Dean lets it go. He helps Sam make spaghetti for dinner.

While they cook, Dean notices Sam continually brushing his hair out of his face as he leans over the stove, and he asks why doesn’t his brother just cut it.

“I swear, Dean, of you threaten me with the clippers again…”

Sam looks up from the pan of sauce he’s stirring on the stove like he just remembered something. He looks at Dean, who has just realized that this is an argument they’ve had before. Dean stares down at the pot of boiling pasta, giving it a swirl with a wooden spoon.

“Or, you could…” Dean thinks of something else other than cutting his hair. “Put it up in a ponytail or something?” Jody’s hair is short, but he thinks there might be some hair elastics in the bathroom somewhere. He can feel Sam staring at the side of his face, and he just keeps poking at the noodles in the steaming pot.

“Whatever,” he mumbles, shrugging his shoulders. Sam finally stops staring as the sauce bubbles and makes wet plop sounds.

They’re in the middle of eating dinner when Cas gets back. He doesn’t say much as he grabs another plate and helps himself to a serving of spaghetti and garlic bread. Everyone eats quietly for the rest of the meal. Dean’s seen enough TV to know that it’s weird that nobody’s asked Cas about his trip or anything. They barely said hello.

“Hey, Cas? Feel like stretching your legs for a bit?” Dean asks while Sam and Jody clear away the plates.

Cas glances at him. “It’s a little bit dark for a walk, Dean.”

“C’mon, it’s just to the corner store. I’m craving something sweet.” He can hear Sam murmur something to Jody, and her responding snort.

“We’ll get something for you guys, too. What do you want?” Dean asks as he pokes his head around the doorframe to the kitchen.

Jody waves him off, and Sam pauses for a minute with a thoughtful look before asking for pie if they have any. Dean and Cas pull on jackets, and head out the door. He has to wave off Cas’ repeated offers to drive.

“You just drove back from Wyoming, man, just walk with me.”

Cas puts his hands in his pockets and keeps pace with Dean, street lights guiding their way. When the corner market comes into view, Dean asks, “So how did it go, with the family?”

Frowning, Cas shuffles his feet and kicks a rock. “I didn’t actually speak much to my family while I was there.”

“Oh.”

Dean nods, and they make it a few more yards before Cas says, “Although, I did speak with one member of my family. It wasn’t pleasant.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.”

“For what?” Cas turns to face him, eyes squinting and head tilted.

“I dunno, that you had to go at all, I guess?”

They’re at the door of the store, and Cas gives Dean a soft smile, which just made the trip worth it. “Thank you, Dean.”

Once inside, Dean and Cas stare at the selection of candy and snacks. He’s been here enough times, he knows where everything is, and goes for the little packaged Hostess pies. Not sure what Sam wants, he gets one each of cherry and apple. Not really in the mood for one himself, Dean goes back to look over the candy bars. He’s not really in a Snickers mood either. Thinking he’ll just grab some peach rings so he doesn’t go back empty handed, he glances at the ice cream freezer. Hmmm.

It’s getting a little cold for ice cream, but that might be just what he wants. Cas has a bottle of juice in hand, and Dean grabs an ice cream sandwich. First thing out the door, Dean makes Cas unwrap his ice cream enough to eat. He waits for Cas to mention his choice of snack, but the guy says nothing, and Dean finishes it before they’re halfway back.

Mood buoyed by sugar, Dean wraps his good arm around Cas’ neck, who leans into him at the touch. He talks about how he’s going to get his cast reduced next week. Man, he missed Cas. Being around the guy just makes him feel good. It’s different than with Sam, who he liked being around too, just… not the same. It’s different with Jody, too. Maybe it’s just that way with people you care about, everyone different. It was something he hadn’t thought about until Cas was gone for a couple days. Cas is just… Cas. Dean can’t help the grin that lights his face when he squeezes Cas closer, and he gets this little shy smile back from the guy.

Yeah, it feels good to have Cas back.


	9. Chapter 9

A week later, Dean goes in to have his old cast removed, and the newer one around just his forearm feels so much better. They let him choose the fiberglass wrap color this time since he’s actually conscious, and he goes for a navy blue. The doctor says if he keeps healing this quickly, this one will only be on for two to three weeks. All he cares about is the ability to actually move his arm around, even though his upper arm is a little thinner than the other and grossly white.

The next day is his first appointment with the therapist. He’s anxious, sitting in the waiting room, Sam having agreed to wander off for the hour during his session. With no idea what to expect, Dean had taken to watching some Dr. Phil, and googling. It only made his anxiety worse. But everyone ganged up on him, and wouldn’t let him cancel. Well, at least Cas looked a little contrite about making him go, but still. A woman with a pencil skirt, glasses, and blonde hair pulled into a bun calls, “Mr. Smith?” from the doorway leading into the therapist’s office, and he sighs before getting to his feet.

Dr. Martin, “Call me Linda,” actually isn’t so bad. She asks him about his accident, and has him go over what he knows of his medical history. Then they do some word association, and she doesn’t show any particular disappointment or interest in his answers that he can tell. He’s encouraged to talk about how his family is handling his recovery, and Dean knows enough to avoid mentioning their reticence to tell him about the past while still telling her about life with Cas, Sam, and Jody.

Their hour ends quicker than he expected, and when he steps out the door, Sam is waiting for him. “How’d it go?” Sam asks with his trademark forehead worry creases.

Dean smiles and holds up the composition notebook Linda gave him. “Not bad, she says I should write down stuff, like a journal or something.” He doesn’t tell Sam it’s meant for his dreams, that she encouraged him to write them down upon waking in the hopes they might give him clues about his repressed memories. Sam gets this look on his face like he was hoping Dean would share more, then heads out to the car, asking what Dean wants for lunch.

*

Now that Dean’s arm is a bit more mobile, he starts helping around the house more. He cooks, and looks up new recipes to try. One day while cooking and singing along to the radio, Sam comes into the kitchen, his eyes wide. “What’s up, Sammy?” Dean asks while checking on his frittata.

“I didn’t know you could actually sing,” Sam says with surprise in his tone.

“What do you mean?” Dean wipes his hands on a towel and turns to face his brother. “Did I not sing in front of you, or something?”

There’s a crease between Sam’s brows, the thinking or confused one. Dean’s getting good at reading Sam’s expressions. “No, you liked to sing before, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard you in-tune.” He glances at the radio. “Or sing to anything less than than twenty years old.”

Huh. “They said this was from the 90’s.”

“Dean, I don’t think you’ve ever had Red Hot Chili Peppers in your music collection.”

“You mean that old box of tapes under the car seat?” Sam nods, and Dean wants to ask more, but he’s not sure how much he can get Sam to offer before clamming up. “So what’s up with those, anyway? Jody doesn’t have anything that can play them on, even.”

As expected, his brother tenses at the question. “Dean… They kind of came with the car, and I guess I’m just not used to you playing anything else, unless it was on the radio, and you usually preferred classic rock stations.”

Oh, so it’s related to their dad, then. Dean nods and lets the subject drop, and he continues to cook with the radio on, but doesn’t sing along. He wonders if this is something he should bring up with Linda during their session tomorrow. It’s not too weird, right?

*

Dean sits on Linda’s couch, his journal open as he looks for something that isn’t too weird to ask her about. Most of his dreams have involved some disturbing content involving torture. That definitely seems to be on the no-no list of things to discuss with a mental health professional. She eventually sighs and ask him why he doesn’t want to share his dreams. “When I wrote them down, I didn’t think I was going to have to tell you about them.”

“Are they that embarrassing, Dean?”

“It’s not that…” He snaps the notebook closed and tosses it aside. “They make me think that maybe I was a horrible person, someone I don’t want to be anymore.”

“I see.“ Linda makes a note on her legal pad and looks back up at him. “And you fear remembering that person will make who you are now disappear?”

Dean looks down at his hands. “Maybe.”

She sets down her legal pad and leans forward. “Dean, who you are is more than who you used to be. Even when you recover those memories, you can make a conscious choice to change your path. I can help you with that, if you’ll let me.”

Afraid to look up at her, Dean picks at a cuticle. “What if I’ve done… something illegal?”

“That’s what doctor patient privilege is for.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t thought about that. “Even if who I used to be is a little,” he whistles, and twirls his finger around his ear.

“Memory loss doesn’t completely wipe away mental illness, Dean. I think I would have noticed something wrong before now.”

She has a point, but Dean still remembers Sam’s warnings. With a shrug, Dean crosses his arms. “I’m not ready yet.”

Giving him a small smile, Linda sits back and picks up her legal pad again. “Alright, we’ll talk about something else. How are things going at home?”

That’s safe to talk about. Dean mentions the thing with Sam last night, and they talk about what he thinks it means that he drove his father’s car and listened to his music, and even followed in the same profession. She asks how Jody and Cas fit into his life, and Dean says that he met both of them through his work. Somehow, he ends up spending the rest of the session talking about Cas. He mentions that there are times that Cas seems just as clueless as he does about certain things, and that it’s nice, having someone to figure things out together with.

He’s talking about the time that Cas was irritated about having to get up in the middle of a movie to go pee, when her timer goes off. Linda puts down her notebook, and takes off her glasses. “This was a good session, Dean. I have one question for you before you go, perhaps it’s something for you to think about until our next session.”

Dean says OK, and slips on his jacket, waiting for her to ask. “Dean, I’m wondering about your feelings for Cas.”

The comment catches him off guard, and he pauses with his jacket half on. “Yeah, what about them?”

Linda gives him a small smile. “What does he mean to you? Is he family? A friend, confidante?”

Huh. Dean thinks about it for a moment. “Well, it’s different from how I feel about Sam, and Jody too. Cas is… Just Cas.”

“I see. Well, keep thinking about that until next week, and see if you can define your relationship a little more, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. See you later, Linda.” Dean picks up his notebook and heads outside where Sam is waiting. It’s weird, why would she ask him specifically about Cas? He didn’t spend that much time talking about him, did he?

*

Over the next couple of days, Dean thinks about his relationship with Cas. The only other people he can compare him with is Jody and Sam, so he thinks about them. Jody's a good friend, and he feels a warm affection for her. There’s also a deep respect, born from both the fact she’s been gracious enough to let them all stay in her house, and because of her position as Sheriff. She’s good at what she does, and honestly wants to help people.

Sam, well he’s his brother. Sure, Dean doesn’t remember anything about their childhood, but he still feels… a kind of protectiveness, a responsibility. And Sam seems to reflect that back at him, trying to protect him from the hurtful parts of their past. He thinks it might be some kind of ingrained instinct, especially considering what little he’s learned about their family life, the loss of their mother, how their father raised them. It’s a little weird; Dean thinks he and Sam, simply based on how his brother reacts to him, have been pretty close. Even so, Dean’s physical affection seems… new, different to Sam.  

And then he’s back to Cas. He’s not sure why the man is so hard to define. Maybe that’s because Cas is full of contradictions. He knows so much about so many things, but yet there are parts of daily life that he just doesn’t seem to grasp. He says things to people that get weird reactions, is almost as clueless as Dean about media, and if Dean had to define a word for the guy, it would have to be… alien. Kind of like this old TV show character Dean’s seen when he can’t sleep, Mork from Ork. Well, with fewer jokes and strange powers, of course.

But how does Dean feel about Cas? Well, there’s affection, of course. There’s also a certain… connection between them. He finds himself wanting to be close to Cas, and enjoys being around him. Sometimes Cas gives him this look, and it’s like Dean’s all he sees in that moment. It gives him a warm feeling. But whenever Cas catches himself doing it, he withdraws. Dean is sure it’s his fault somehow. Something he’s done to Cas, or said to him, that makes him so wary.

*

Dean and Sam are at the farmer’s market, browsing the last of the autumn produce which is mainly root vegetables, squash, and apples. While thinking of making a big pot of stew, he stumbles upon the honey vendor’s stall. Golden jars gleam in the sun, small plastic bears lined up in a row. Little pots of beeswax lipbalm are stacked in a basket, and Dean thinks of Cas’ perpetually chapped looking lips. Maybe this would help?

One jar of wildflower honey, a squeeze bear of clover, and small pot of lip balm later, Dean finds Sam and they finish their purchases. On their way to the car, his one good arm holding a bag of produce, he thinks to ask, “Hey Sam? How do you feel about Cas?”

Sam nearly drops his own bags before glancing at him. “What do you mean, Dean?”

Dean ducks his head. “Well, my therapist told me to think about my relationships with people, and I’ve figured out you and Jody, but Cas…” Pursing his lips, Dean shakes his head. “That one’s a little more difficult to figure out.”

They reach the car and place the bags in the back floorboard. “I guess I can see that. You two have always had a...” Sam lets out a strange, humored huff, turning away. “More profound bond.”

A more what? “You have to give me more to go on than that, man.”

With a sigh, Sam tosses Dean the keys. “Fine, you drive, I’ll talk.”

Dean listens as Sam vaguely outlines Cas saving Dean’s life five years ago. When Dean asks for details, Sam deflects. “It was a bad situation, and I wasn’t there for it. Also, Cas doesn’t like to talk about it either.” Of course not, it would make it too easy if they would actually talk about shit.

Sam mentions he didn’t even meet Cas until at least a month later, and that Dean’s always had better luck getting him to answer or show up. Dean stops at a red light and thinks about that for a second. “So what, does he just like me better or something?”

That gets a snort out of Sam. “I actually asked him that once.”

“And?”

The light turns green, and Sam says, “He told me you had a more profound bond.”

Dean snorts, recognizing the phrasing Sam used earlier. “So he’s always just been a weird guy?”

He sees Sam nod in his peripheral vision while he drives, keeping his eyes on the road. “Yeah.”

*

It’s the next day, and both Sam and Jody have to work late. Dean and Cas have the house to themselves, and they pile up on the couch with leftover stew to watch a movie. Cas stopped off at the rental place earlier and picked up _The Wedding Singer_.

It’s not a bad movie, not really. A little silly, the movie is full of references from the 80’s that neither Dean nor Cas seem to get. He does recognize some of the songs from listening to the radio, though. One thing Cas failed to mention is that this is a romantic comedy. The longer the movie goes, the more he recognizes his own feelings for Cas. It’s when Robbie and Julia have the practice kiss that it all clicks together in his mind, that he thinks he wants that kind of thing with Cas. He looks over to see Cas, wide-eyed and clutching a pillow to his chest, and thinks, _maybe Cas wants this too_? But as soon as Cas notices Dean looking, he blushes and drops the pillow, straightening his spine and focusing on the TV with a slight frown.

For the rest of the movie, Dean’s mind is split between watching their relationship develop, and how he feels about Cas. Is it weird? How does Cas feel about him? Casting furtive glances at the man next to him, Dean tries to gauge how Cas might feel about him. There’s a certain look in his eye when Julia’s fiance talks about sleeping around, and when Robbie insults her by saying she’s getting married for money. Did he get hurt once? Cas never talks about relationships. Dean watches as Robbie goes to tell Julia how he feels, both realizing how they feel, only to have him think she’s too happy. He watches as it all falls apart, straight through when Julia meets Linda. Something aches deep in Dean’s chest, and when he glances at Cas, there’s this forlorn look on his face.

During the serenade on the airplane, Dean has to swallow down a lump in his throat, and he swears Cas gets a little misty-eyed. As soon as the credits start rolling, Cas clears his throat and collects their dishes and avoids looking at Dean the whole time. Shit, Dean’s really beginning to wonder if he’s the reason Cas seems upset. Bringing their cups, he follows to the kitchen where Cas is running water over their bowls.

Silent and still not looking at Dean, Cas washes their bowls, spoons and cups, which Dean rinses and dries, unsure how to break the weird tension. With the sink empty, Cas starts wiping down the counter, and Dean reaches out, stopping him mid-wipe with a hand on his wrist.

“Hey,” Dean says softly, “was the movie really that bad?”

With a choked snort, Cas shakes his head and pulls his hand away from the counter, from Dean’s grip. But Dean’s not ready to let this go yet, and stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Then what’s wrong, Cas?”

Letting out a deep sigh, Cas finally looks at him. “I… it’s nothing.” His eyes start to slide away again.

“Hey, no.” Dean tightens his grip on Cas’ shoulder, and reaches out with his good hand, nudging the guy’s jaw with his fingers. “Don’t just turn away from me like that, okay?”

“I apologize, Dean. It’s just sometimes…” Cas looks back into Dean’s eyes then, and time seems to pause for a moment as Cas’ blue eyes reflect the golden light from the dining room. They seem so full of some kind of emotion, and Dean wishes he could tell what it is.

“Sometimes what, Cas?” Thumb tracing the cleft of Cas’ chin, Dean’s fingers slide along his jaw and rest lightly on his neck, feeling his accelerated pulse.

Dean glances away from Cas’ eyes to his mouth when his lips part, the tip of his tongue just behind his teeth as he pauses before saying, “Sometimes emotions can be a bit overwhelming, I think.”

Yeah, Dean can kind of understand that. Right now, his head is filled with a buzzing, nerves lit up with a longing, a need for something unnameable. He slides his fingers along the side of Cas’ neck, resting his hand along the collarbone. A magnetic force pulls him forward until they are close enough to feel each other’s breath. Unable to tear his eyes away from Cas’ mouth, Dean whispers, “I get overwhelmed sometimes too.”

Leaning forward, he can feel his own heart beating faster, the movement of Cas breathing under his hand. With their breath hot between them, Dean lets instinct take over and tentatively brushes their lips together once, twice. Feeling Cas part his lips, Dean captures his mouth, pulling on Cas’ bottom lip and lightly flicking with his tongue.

And, oh. _This…_ this is perfect. Dean’s whole body tingles with sparks from the kiss, every nerve lit with anticipation, nervousness, excitement. When Cas makes a small noise, opening his mouth wider… Dean nearly loses his self control. Tilting his head just a bit more, he seals their mouths together and dips his tongue further inside. He groans into the kiss, feeling as though he’s floating above the ground, electrified.

But then with a gasp, Cas pulls away, eyes wild with… fear? Maybe even guilt? Dean reaches for him, but he’s backing up, fingertips of one hand pressed to his mouth.

“Cas, wait—”

“No, Dean. You don’t realize… I… we can’t—” And with that, Cas dashes around the corner and out the front door.

Shit. Dammit. Fuck. Kicking the corner of a cabinet and then wincing at the pain in his toe, Dean wonders why the hell he did that. Is that what he really wants from Cas? The intimacy of a romantic relationship? He thinks back on all their time together so far, and it’s rarely gone beyond affectionate hugging. What if going further isn’t what Cas wants? He’d said once he was like a brother, right?

But when Dean dreams at night… When it’s not nightmares, he dreams of light, of peace, and a warmth wrapping around him, soothing a tortured soul who has fallen almost as far as one can fall. And it raises him up, into the light, piecing him back together. He can’t remember a face, but something primitive in the back of his brain associates the warm light with Cas. And while Cas may not be made of light, Dean finds he wants to be encased in his warmth.

With a frustrated growl, Dean goes to find a pair of shoes so he can go chasing after Cas in the dark. He needs to make sure his friend doesn’t do something stupid because he’ll never forgive himself if something happens. Grabbing a flashlight, he goes searching. Only a couple blocks away, he finds Cas seated at the same bench they went to during Dean’s first outing.

Cas is hunched over, hands raking through his hair, only a thin shirt protecting him from the evening chill. Come to think of it, Dean forgot a jacket too. Thankfully, the corner of the park with the bench is well lit, so Dean turns off the flashlight and quietly makes his way to Cas. As he gets closer, he can see shoulders heave and shake. Shit, is Cas crying?

A stab of pain in his chest, Dean swallows back a lump in his throat and sits down on the far end of the bench. ”Hey,” That makes Cas jump, “You really shouldn’t be out here alone in the dark,” Dean says softly.

With a long, wet sniff, Cas wipes his face with both hands and looks at Dean, eyes huge and forlorn in the orange lighting of the streetlamp, hair sticking up messily. “Dean,” comes out half strangled, the word swollen with emotion.

“Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

Cas drops his head into his hands. “If you remembered, you never would have,” Cas mumbles against his palms. It solidifies the thought in Dean’s mind that this is somehow his fault after all. Just what did he do to Cas?

“What? Look, I understand you think of me like a brother or something, and sure, I don’t remember shit, so I’m sorry, and I shouldn’t use my not remembering as an excuse, but I always want to be close to you, and maybe I need to get out more, because...” _Because when I think of kissing, I want it to be you,_ goes unsaid.

Cas takes another deep breath and stares up at the starry sky. “If you remembered what I’ve done, what I am, not to mention who you are, you would have never considered spoiling your lips with mine.”

Dean can’t even think of a response to that, because _spoiling?_ He just stares back at Cas.

“Cas _tiel_ is a monster, Dean,” Cas says with a heaving sigh. “I have betrayed you, lied to you, used you for my own selfish means. I’ve hurt your brother, broken him almost irreparably.”

He waves a hand at Dean, “And you! Dean Winchester sleeps with _women_. Dean Winchester ‘ _doesn’t swing that way_ ’,” Cas almost sneers those words, using finger quotes. “You are a red-blooded, macho American male, who loves cars, pies, and _women_. Never… _Never_ something like me.” With his last few words, Cas seems to deflate in on himself.

Dean blinks, absorbs what he’s just heard. It’s a lot. “Cas?” he says softly.

“What, Dean.”

“Who’s Dean _Winchester_?”

Wide, red-rimmed eyes snap onto his. Dean’s mind flashes back to his first few days awake, when he’d heard the name Dean Smith, when he wondered if they were criminals; but their association with Jody had assuaged those fears. Meanwhile, they were three grown men living in Jody’s home, two of whom were supposedly bounty hunters. And Cas, well, Cas was... odd. For someone who didn’t have amnesia, Cas seemed just as clueless as Dean about certain things. But he’d ignored all that, just accepted it as part of _Cas_.

Now, what he sees is someone who reminds him very much of a rabbit he saw on a nature show last week, ready to bolt to safety in the face of danger. Dean’s not sure he could find Cas again if he managed to spook him off this time. First, he needs to calm Cas down, get them both back inside the house - the _warm_ house, he thinks with a shiver - and wait for Sam and Jody before he jumps to any conclusions.

“Listen. All the things about me? My therapist said I don’t need to let my past define my future, that I can change who I am if I choose. As for you…” He falters here, seeing the vulnerability in the other man’s eyes. “If you were really a monster, someone who’s hurt both me and Sam that badly, why’d he call you when I was in the hospital, hmm?”

Cas closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath. Dean continues. “Would Sam and Jody have left me alone with you if they thought you were going to do me harm?” He ducks his head to catch Cas’ eyes, which have started to slide away. “Hmm?”

Cas holds the eye contact for a scant moment before dropping it. “Dean—”

“C’mon, Cas.” Dean stands, holds out his hand. “Let’s go home, get warm. We’ll wait for Sam and Jody, and then get some answers.” He nudges his hand closer to Cas. “Together.”

Cas reaches out but pauses mid-air, and that’s when Dean realizes he held out his hand with the cast. He quickly switches to his left hand, and waits for Cas to take it. It’s with a tentative acceptance that Cas places his hand in Dean’s, fingers grown cold, but he takes what he can get, and helps pull Cas to his feet. Together, they walk the two blocks back to Jody’s house, hand-in-hand the whole way. It’s not until Dean’s inside that he realizes he left the flashlight behind on the bench.

*

It’s almost midnight when Sam and Jody get back, and Dean’s waiting, elbows resting on the dining table. He made Cas go lay down about half an hour ago, so hopefully he’s asleep. Sam’s the first to notice him, and he stops, his jacket halfway off. “Hey, what’s up? Everything okay?”

Dean runs his tongue over his teeth, pursing his lips. “Depends. You can start with telling me why I didn’t know my— _our_ , last name is Winchester and not Smith.”

“Shit.” That was Jody’s voice, and Dean looks away from Sam to see her at the edge of the doorframe, eyes wide. “Listen, Dean—”

“No, you listen.” Dean kicks out a couple of chairs from under the table for them to sit in. “I’ve been lied to from the beginning. You keep promising to tell me more, but I’m not stupid, and can tell you’re editing shit out.” Leaning back, Dean crosses his arms uncomfortably. He’ll be glad when he can ditch the cast. “So. First of all, why does Cas think he’s a monster?”

Jody and Sam glance at each other, before breaking from their frozen positions and stripping off their jackets. They carefully reposition the chairs facing Dean, and Sam’s the first to speak. “Um, I don’t think Cas is the best place to start.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean waves a hand at Sam. “Then where _is_ a good place to start?”

Sam swallows and glances at Jody. “Do you think you could give us a while?”

She nods, placing a comforting hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything.” Turning to look at Dean, she adds, “Just keep an open mind, okay? It’s a lot to take in all at once, I kind of got a crash course in all this stuff.”

Confused, Dean watches her leave. Just how weird is Sam’s story going to get? He pins Sam down with his stare, watching him squirm. “Well?”

Sam’s forehead crinkles into maximum crease form, and he says after a heavy breath, “I guess the best place to start is with Mom.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy on the exposition for most of it, since this covers a summary of Sam telling Dean about things and stuff.  
> Also the longest chapter, since I couldn't find a good place to split it.

Dean was expecting something, but not what Sam has been telling him for the past hour. Demons. Monsters, ghosts, things that go bump in the night. That’s what they grew up chasing with their dad, not loose criminals. Because their mom was killed by a demon. And not just that, but Sam had some kind of curse or whatever placed on him by that demon. At six months old. Dean keeps waiting for the punchline. It never comes. Not after finding out about some of the weird shit he’s seen, and not after finding out how close he’s come to death more than he’s comfortable with.

Sam gets to the part where John died after a car accident. But no, it couldn’t be a normal death, he sold his soul so Dean could keep up his legacy or whatever. Sam looks down at his hands and lets out a raspy cough. “Do you mind if I get some water?”

Waving him off, Dean leans heavily on his forearms, propped against the table. He wants to call Sam crazy, to tell him there’s no way any of this shit is real. But there’s something niggling in the back of his mind that tells him there’s a ring of truth to Sam’s words. When his brother comes back, he sets two glasses of water on the table and disappears around the corner, returning a moment later with a thick, leatherbound journal.

“This was our Dad’s,” he says, tracing his fingers across the cover after he sits down. “It will help explain a lot of what I’ve been talking about, if you don’t think we all need to be locked away at this point.”

“It’s a very near thing,” Dean says, eyeing the worn leather and the bulging pages within. “No wonder you were afraid I’d blab to a shrink about all this.”

With a huff of a laugh, Sam grabs his glass of water. “Dean, I haven’t even gotten _started_.”

The crazy doesn’t end with the death of their father. No, Sam (and a large handful of other people his age) developed psychic abilities, was kidnapped and forced to compete to see who would lead Lucifer’s fucking army. Sam died, but got better because Dean sold his fucking _soul_. There’s a door to hell, _HELL!_ in Wyoming, and it was opened with a magic gun. Demons released, oh yeah, and Dad too; the demon died, and Dean’s clock was ticking.

“Wait, you said I had a year. How long ago was all this?” Dean’s ability to suspend disbelief is being stretched very fucking thin.

“That was in ‘07. And yeah, your time did run out.” Sam gets a pained look on his face.

Dean looks down at his own hands, his cast, and back up at Sam. “So, what? Was it your turn to sell your soul or something?” he says with a derisive tone.

“No.” Sam wipes a hand across his face. “That’s how Cas ended up in our lives.”

“Ohh-kayy…” Dean cocks his head. “Cas said he was a monster. I’m guessing he was being literal. So what kind of monster is he, and what does that have to do with me being alive and mostly whole?”

There’s a wave of relief on Sam’s face, and Dean’s pretty sure they’re skipping something important that his brother is glad to not tell him right now. “Dean,” Sam starts, looking at him with wide eyes. “Cas isn’t a monster. He is— was, an angel. He’s the one that dragged you out of Hell.”

Okay, that’s enough for one night. Dean’s head is throbbing, and all those nightmares he’s been having seem frighteningly close to the truth right now. He holds out a hand and says they can finish tomorrow, that he needs to lie down. Sam stands up and reaches for Dean as he makes his way around the table. “Are you alright? Is there anything I can do?”

Dean snaps at him, “I’m pretty sure you’ve done enough, Sam. Just let me go to my room.” He grabs the journal off the table, and heads down the hallway, shoulders stiff. Remembering mention of how he used to drink heavily, he’s beginning to understand why if even half of what he’s been told tonight is true.

*

The rest of the night is spent fitfully, with Dean tossing and turning. For the first time in a couple weeks, he’s tempted to go take one of his pain pills, if only so he can just get some sleep. But he’s afraid the nightmares will come back, so he lies there in the dark, listening to the house settle after Sam finally makes his way to bed. Then, he turns on the bedside lamp and slides his hand over the smooth surface of his dad’s journal before opening it to look inside. John’s military medals are pinned to the inside cover, old letters tucked into the flap. The binder is full of pages interspersed with newspaper clippings and photos, and Dean flips past the plastic photo page full of yellowed pictures of men in uniform to look at the writing on the first actual page.

_I went to Missouri and I learned the truth_

Flipping pages, Dean skims over what should look like the ravings of a madman. Drawings of creatures and symbols, descriptions of monsters and how to kill them. Discolored clippings of mysterious death, murder, and suicide articles.

Eyes heavy and itching with the need to sleep, Dean sets it aside, and digs out his composition book with his own notes about the dreams he’s been having. _Hell_ , he thinks tracing his finger along a frighteningly detailed description of a method of torture. Of all the things he could start remembering, it had to be Hell. Flipping a page, Dean skims over one of the times he’d dreamed of the warm light. Cas was that light, and saved him from all of that. If that’s true, then why does he consider himself a monster? Head full of more questions than before, Dean sets aside the notebook and rolls over, leaving the lamp on.

*

Some time just before dawn, Dean hears someone shuffling around in the hallway. He figures it must be Cas, since everyone else went to bed late. After a while, Dean gets up and drags himself to the kitchen in the hopes Cas already started some coffee. He has, and it’s just starting to drip into the carafe as Dean makes his way into the kitchen. Cas notices Dean, eyes widening before he lowers them and he tries to sneak out of the area.

“Wait, Cas. Don’t…” Dean holds out a hand, and Cas pauses at the other end of the room, face turned away. “So, an angel, huh?” He watches as Cas’ shoulders slump.

“Yes.” Cas’ reply is barely more than a whisper.

“Sam said _was_. I guess you don’t have wings to show as proof.”

With a shake of his head, Cas crosses his arms. “How much did Sam tell you?”

“Just to the part where you dragged me out of Hell, apparently.” Dean grabs a couple of mugs out of the cabinet. “I don’t know if I ever thanked you for that, so… uh, thanks.”

Shaking his head, Cas mutters, “That was my mission, an assignment.”

They stand there in awkward silence, Dean staring at the back of Cas’ head. He’s thinking of asking a question when he hears the coffeepot start its final gurgles. “Hey, coffee’s done.” Turning around, Dean pours them both a cup, and he hands one to Cas, who has finally turned around, even though he’s not meeting Dean’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Cas murmurs, before getting the milk from the fridge.

“No problem.”

They milk and sugar their coffees, then stand around the island awkwardly sipping at the hot drinks. Dean wonders if the reason Cas rejected him is because angels don’t… if Cas doesn’t… But he returned the kiss at first, right? Not sure how much he can ask, Dean stays silent and watches the steam rise from his mug.

“Cas?” If he can’t ask about last night, he knows what he can ask. His conversation in the car with Sam a couple of days ago comes to mind.

Cas looks up at him, blue eyes wary. “What is it, Dean?”

“Can you tell me about how… you, um, pulled me out of Hell?”

Thumbs fiddling with the edge of his mug, Cas stares down at what’s left of his coffee. “I’m not sure if I should—”

“No, listen. I’ve been dreaming, for a while now, about what I think used to be Hell.” Cas looks back up at him then, eyes wide. Dean stutters, “I, I think I remember you. Hold on.”

He rushes to his room and grabs the composition notebook. Dashing to the table and beckoning Cas over, he flips it open to one of the pages he was looking at last night. His writing, thanks to his cast is sloppy, and he skims the page until he finds what he’s looking for.

“The nightmares have been pretty bad at times, but this, right here, is one of the better ones.” He slides the notebook over to where Cas has been creeping closer to the table, and smiles when Cas sits down and draws it closer to read.

The dream started out horrific as he relived, in graphic detail, what it’s like to filet human flesh from bone. But then, there was the warm light. He feared it at first, and as it grew brighter, it burned his eyes. Then there was a resonant voice, seemingly at all octaves at once, and deafening. It said, he was _to be saved_. But he responded that he didn’t want to be saved, and that's when the light reached out. It reached out and touched him, branding his soul with a mark of its angelic purity. Dean recoiled in fear and awe, but the light did not relent, and soon he was encased in the burning light, carried higher and higher, out of the darkness and stink of the pit. That, he now knows, was Cas.

When Cas finishes reading, he sits there, staring and blinking at the page. “That, was you, wasn’t it Cas?” Dean asks.

“You didn’t remember that before.” Cas blinks again and looks over at Dean. “Why are you remembering it now?”

“I dunno.” Dean shrugs, realizing that Cas isn’t denying it. “Maybe because I can’t remember anything else?”

Cas closes the book and stares down at the table top. “That’s what happened, more or less,” he whispers.

Smiling, Dean wants to tell Cas that he can’t be a monster, but as he opens his mouth, Jody appears, buttoning her work shirt. She looks up to see Dean, and pauses. “Oh, hi.”

Cas uses the distraction to get up. “Jody, let me get you some coffee.”

She thanks him and sits across from Dean after she finishes tucking her shirt into her pants. “So, how’d last night go?”

“Monsters are real, Sam died and got better, I died and Cas dragged me out of Hell.” Dean leans back in his chair. “That’s as far as I’ve gotten.”

Cas places a travel mug in front of Jody and slips away around the corner. Dean watches him go, then locks back onto the sheriff. “So. How’d you get mixed up with us?”

“Well, it’s not as wild a ride as yours.” Screwing her mouth to the side, she rolls the mug between her hands. “A good chunk of the local cemetery came back to life, including my dead son. Everything seemed fine for a while, but then they started eating people. I lost my husband and had to shoot my son.”

“Uh…” That’s intense, all at once like that. “Sorry?”

She waves a hand in dismissal, but blinks rapidly. “It was a few years ago. If it weren’t for you boys showing up, the whole town might have been toast.”

With a sigh, Jody stands up. “Welp, I need to get down to the station and check on things. Be back early though, okay?”

“Yeah, have a good one.”

With Jody gone and Cas in hiding, Dean stands up and rinses out the cold remains in his coffee cup, then starts making toast. He feels a little off-balance with everything he’s learned so far, and knows there's more to come as soon as Sam gets up.

*

By the time Sam drags out of bed, Cas is gone to the diner for his shift and Dean has managed to nap in fitful bursts in the recliner. Once Sam gets some caffeine in him, he sits on the couch close to Dean. “You, ahh, want me to pick up where I left off?”

“Yup.”

“Alright, let’s see. Cas pulled you back out of Hell…” It turns out that Dean was supposed to stop the apocalypse. Or at least that’s what they thought. Demons were trying to break the seals that held Lucifer’s cage closed, and so the brothers tried to stop it. Sam struggles with part of the story, and it takes some prodding from Dean for Sam to reveal he’d gotten addicted to demon blood. “I was able to help, Dean. I thought I was doing good.”

Instead of just doing good, Sam was being groomed to be Lucifer’s vessel. Dean asks why the angels didn’t help more, and Sam reveals that it turned out that the ones in charge wanted the apocalypse to happen, with Lucifer wearing Sam, and Michael wearing Dean. “Cas didn’t know that at first. He ended up having to rebel against his superiors.”

Dean nods along, willing Sam to continue. Lucifer ended up getting let out of his cage, they tried and failed to find God, and they met an archangel. “Turned out Gabriel was hiding as Loki, and we’d met him before. But I’m getting off track.” They teamed up with a demon named Crowley who liked the world just the way it was. More angel drama, some time travel, oh, and the four horsemen of the apocalypse. “We went to Heaven for a little bit, too. Turned out that God didn’t want to be found. None of us took that well, especially Cas.”

Sam explains that at one point Dean was willing to give up and become Michael’s vessel, but they stopped him in time. Unfortunately, the angels found their half brother and used him instead. The magic demon killing gun didn’t work on the devil, so they came up with a plan to trap Lucifer using the four horsemen’s rings (another story for another time), but it meant Sam had to become his vessel. “And it worked, Lucifer and Michael ended up in the cage, but me and Adam were trapped with them.”

There’s a distant look in Sam’s eye, and Dean asks if he needs to take a break. “No, I need to finish all this.” While Sam was in the cage, Dean had done as promised and was trying to live a life with a woman with a kid, that Dean had once had a relationship with. “I really thought you and Lisa would be good together.” Cas had tried to pull Sam out of the pit, but it didn’t turn out right, and Sam’s soul was still stuck there. Cas was also fighting his own battles as another archangel, Raphael, was trying to start the apocalypse again. “He did a lot of things he shouldn't have, Dean. But he thought he was doing the best he could at the time.”

Sam’s skipping a lot, Dean can tell, when he mentions monster alphas, and opening a portal to Purgatory. “Wait, wait. Back up. What now?”

“Dean, I was real messed up back then. First I was being tortured while my soulless self was running around, and then I had my memories blocked for my protection. And when I started remembering, things got really rough. I almost died, Dean. Sorry if I don’t remember everything clearly.”

Dean sits back and lets Sam continue. A lot of angels and monsters died, Cas made some bad decisions, and ended up absorbing all the souls of Purgatory. But it’s not like the one the religious people tell you about. Because that would be too easy. No, Purgatory holds the souls of monsters. Monsters, and these things called Leviathan. “Cas ended up possessed by them, and… he, um, died, we thought.”

Sam was hallucinating Lucifer, which wasn’t a picnic. Meanwhile, the Leviathan were planning world domination so they could harvest humans like cattle. “We um, we lost Bobby because of them.” Dean knew of Bobby before Sam started talking about all this, but all he knew was he’d been a friend of the family and owned a salvage yard. Between last night and today, Sam’s filled in some of the gaps. “I think I need to take a break for a while, Dean.”

“Sure, let’s make some lunch.” Sam makes a face when Dean hands him a sandwich, and he mentions it has something to do with Cas, that happened that same year. “It was the sandwich of solidarity,” he says with a sad smile.

In between bites, Sam mentions how he ended up in a mental hospital because of the Lucifer hallucinations. “I couldn’t sleep, and it was killing me.” Dean had gone to find someone to fix him, and had stumbled upon Cas, who couldn’t remember anything. “I gotta admit, I thought about that, when you said you didn’t remember me.” Sam takes a bite of his sandwich and chews thoughtfully before continuing.

Cas remembered what he was, and saved Sam by taking the madness onto himself. Dean looked at Sam in horror. “Dean, you gotta understand, he felt responsible because he… was the one who kind of broke me in the first place.” Well, now part of Cas’ confession last night makes sense now.

“But I don’t hold that against him. It wasn’t really his fault.”

“I know, Sam. Just keep going.”

They met a girl who worked at the company the head Leviathan kind of owned (it’s complicated), and she was willing to help them stop the plot to take over the world. “That’s Charlie, and you two get along pretty well. She’s… visiting friends in a really far place right now.” Oh yeah, and the Leviathan found a magical tablet written by God’s scribe, Metatron. “It was really powerful, and that’s where Kevin comes into the story.” Kevin happens to be a prophet, and his life got turned upside down when the tablet got uncovered since he was the only one who could read the thing. “He was... is still just a kid, and he was supposed to go to college. But he got dragged into our mess instead.”

Stopping the plot to take over the world involved killing the master Leviathan. The only problem was, when they killed him, Dean and Cas got sucked into Purgatory along with. “After that, Crowley disappeared with Kevin, you two were gone, and I just kind of… left. I couldn’t find a way to get you back, and spent about a year trying to get over the loss.”

Okay, that’s something Cas will have to fill in, because a year in a dimension filled with the souls of monsters? How did they survive? Sam says that he had help from a vampire named Benny. “Cas didn’t come back with you, and you were pretty torn up about it for a while.” Sam sniffs and picks at the hem of his shirt. “I should have trusted Benny more. I think I was upset that at the time, you seemed to trust the vampire more than me.”

Cas mysteriously came back, but something was wrong with him. “We didn’t know how he got out of Purgatory, and after the thing with the Leviathan, we were a little cautious around him. He was being mind-controlled by other angels.” They got to meet their long-lost grandfather, fought off an especially evil demon called Abaddon, and ended up with a special secret society’s bunker to stay in. “You were so happy, Dean. To have a home, a place to come back to.” Sam promises they’ll go back there after Dean’s cast gets removed. “Kevin’s holding down the fort, and I know he’ll be glad to see us again.”

Cas ended up hiding another magic tablet written by Metatron, and disappeared after breaking the mind control the angel Naomi had on him. “You never did tell me what happened in the crypt, so I can’t help you there.” The demon tablet had a way to lock up Hell, and it involved trials. Sam ended being the one to do them, and he almost died. “I would have done it too, if you hadn’t stopped me. We were all in a bad place, and I was so close to finishing the third trial.”

Cas was on his own mission to lock up Heaven, a quest of three trials given to him by Metatron. “Yeah, turns out that didn’t go as planned either.” That’s how Cas lost his angel Grace, and all the angels got kicked out of Heaven so Metatron could be the new head honcho.

Sam’s leaving something important out again, and Dean makes him back up a bit. “Wait, you said the third trial almost killed you. So what happened?”

Mouth forming a thin line, Sam looks out the window instead of at Dean. “I was dying. I thought I was going to pass on, but then you showed up in my mind and asked me to keep fighting. What I didn’t realize is it wasn’t really you, and I ended up being the vessel for an angel.” Wait, what?

“Yeah, and I didn’t know until Cas caught on, while you were in the hospital.” Dean doesn’t know what to say, but Sam does. “You knew this angel was riding around in me, keeping me alive, and you kept it a secret, Dean. For months.” Sam deflates a little. “I was so mad at you, but I felt guilty for being mad, because you couldn’t even remember. So we kind of made a truce.”

“What, you and the angel?” Dean’s mind is swimming, it’s all too much information in so little a time frame.

Sam nods. “Yup, he’s still in me, helping me heal back up. Oh, turned out he lied to you, too. He said his name was Ezekiel, but his real name’s Gadreel.”

“Why would he lie?” After everything he’s heard so far, Dean doesn’t know what to expect.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Sam stands up, and his eyes go a little blank before they flash blue. Immediately, Dean can tell that it’s not Sam looking at him now.

“Dean, my apologies,” Gadreel says with Sam’s mouth. “Please allow me to explain myself.”

So Gadreel was the one who got tricked into letting Lucifer in the Garden, which caused pretty much the entirety of the supernatural problems within the world today. He’d been locked up for millennia until all the angels fell. “I saw a chance at redemption, and I took it.” Ever since the truth was exposed, he’s been working to heal Sam as much as possible. “I’ve also been working in conjunction with Castiel to try and unify the angels, which are currently divided and at odds.”

Dean blinks. His brother is standing in front of him, but the person speaking isn’t him. While he’s trying to resolve all this in his head, Gadreel says, “And I must apologize for damaging your relationship with Castiel.”

_What?_ “What?” Yeah, that’s all that Dean’s capable of right now.

“I was afraid that Castiel would discover my true identity, or expose me to the other angels. Thus, when you located him after the fall, I used your brother’s life to get you to force him from your home.”

Wait, Dean kicked Cas out of their home? The bunker? To save his brother’s life. “Can I talk to Sam right now?”

“Of course, Dean. Once again, I offer my sincerest apologies.” And with another blue flash of Sam’s eyes, his posture settles back into the brother Dean’s gotten to know. Sam gives him a small half smile. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be, Dean. He helps sometimes, And I’m helping him learn about humanity.”

“He made me kick Cas out?” That’s the part that keeps circling in his mind. Cas, who was working a minimum wage job in Idaho, when he could have been staying with them the whole time. Who would still be there if Dean hadn’t gotten hurt and Sam hadn't called him here. Where was he living? How had he been getting by? No wonder Cas didn’t think he was wanted. The thought causes a pang in Dean’s chest.

More than a little upset, Dean asks, “What else do I need to know?”

Sam tells him about how they were coming back from dealing with a ghost at a place Dean had stayed as a teen, when they’d picked up on something attacking people in the woods. It turned out to be a bugbear, not much more dangerous than a wild animal. They’d ended up trapping it in an abandoned cabin out in the woods. The fight caused the building to collapse, and Sam says it was Gadreel who pulled Dean out, but hadn’t been strong enough to do much of anything after that other than keep Sam upright until they managed to get to a hospital.

“So why didn’t your hitchhiking angel just heal me, then?”

Sam’s eyes go a little blank before answering. “He didn’t want to expose his angelic abilities. The reason he got found out, was he was going to try to wake you up when Cas walked in.” Sam coughs, “I’ve been tempted to have him help you remember, but he says it’s more than just physical damage, and he’s not sure how to fix it.”

Dean really doesn’t want to believe most of the story he’s been told, and would probably be trying to rationalize it if it weren’t for Sam’s glowing eyes and Gadreel being very obviously not Sam. “I think I need some time alone, Sam. Do you have anywhere to be?”

“Yeah. I can make some phone calls, check up on Kevin. Maybe go hang out at the library?”

Staring into space, Dean nods, and barely registers the door closing, and the rumble of the car as Sam drives off. He goes to get his notebook to jot down some of the more important things, and to make note of the questions swirling in his brain. Otherwise, he just might actually go a little crazy.

*

A relatively short while later, Cas gets back from his job at the diner. He tries to avoid Dean, who’s not having any of that and sits him down at the table.

“I’m not sure how much of what Sam told me I can actually believe right now, but… there’s a part of me saying it’s all true.”

Cas nods, face down, hands limp on the table.

“So…” Dean gives him a nudge with his elbow. “You don’t seem like much of a monster after all.”

Cas stares back at him. “Sam obviously left out a large portion of the narrative.”

“Ha. Did you do anything worse than the Leviathan thing?”

Blinking, Cas thinks about it. “I’m not sure about worse, but if you add up everything—”

“No.” Dean points at him. “We’ve all done shitty things. I sold my _soul_ , Cas. Sam drank demon blood and became a suit for the devil.” Wow, they are all really messed up. “Let’s just agree to forgive each other, alright?”

Cas deflates a little, and Dean figures it’s a work in progress. Speaking of works in progress, “About last night.” Dean really wants to figure out Cas’ feelings for him— about _them_.

“Dean, I—”

Dean holds up a hand. “Look, if you don’t feel for me that way, just say so and I’ll back off.”

Cas blinks at him, wide eyed. “That’s not it, Dean. I’m just… you don’t know…” he lets out an exasperated sigh. “You're not _you_ right now. I would be taking advantage.”

Huh. “I’m not me? Just because I can’t remember shit doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.”

“No, Dean. I remember who you _were_ , and you would have _never_ consider being with me.”

It’s Dean’s turn to stare at the table. Does Cas only want the man he remembers? A shot of panic spikes through him. What if he never remembers? “So you only have feelings for the asshole I was before?” He can’t keep the petulant tone out of his voice.

Cas turns to face him. “ _Dean_.” Dean has to close his eyes, the way Cas says his name like that, it has so many layers. “I learned to love the Righteous Man, someone who was broken and didn’t know how to love himself.” A hand gently cups Dean’s jaw. “Whether you ever regain your memories or not, my feelings will not change. I still love the wonderful, caring man before me now.”

“Then why?” Dean opens his eyes, and pours his pleading into them. Why can’t Cas just let them have this?

“Because you,” Cas slides his hand away from Dean’s face and backs away. “If you ever remember, after we've been together, I don’t want you to regret it.”

It’s not fair. How could he ever regret how he feels for Cas? Was he really such a complete dick that he’d be able to deny what’s between them? “But Cas,”

Cas closes his eyes. “Stop. Please, Dean,” he whispers.

Yeah, fine. Standing up, Dean swallows a lump in his throat and heads for his room without another word. Cas doesn’t want him this way, so he won’t push it. Even if it hurts.

During the next few days, Dean and Cas find a new dynamic. Dean doesn’t casually throw his arm around the guy, rest his legs in his lap, and he stops all the small, affectionate touches. Cas picks up some extra time at the diner learning the grill. Sam shakes his head at them and says they’re both idiots. They keep their boundaries.

At night, Dean dreams. They’ve shifted from the regular nightmares of what he now knows is Hell, to include other horrors. Bleeding out in the back seat of the car, shooting a gun in the face of something almost human, slashing at monsters with a machete, flinging gore. When he wakes, everything goes into his notebook. Later, he verifies as much as he can with Sam. So far, everything he’s dreamed checks out as a memory, or at least plausible.

His next appointment with Linda comes around, and Dean shares some of his dreams about fighting monsters. She gives him tons of psychobabble about dream imagery and symbolism, but he knows better than to try to say otherwise. At least he keeps her occupied for most of their session. While he’s thinking it might be a good idea to stop coming to see her, she asks about his relationship with Cas. “Have you thought about your feelings for him?”

For a brief moment, Dean feels a flare of anger and wants to blame her for everything. But how could she have known? “Yeah, about that. Figured it out, thought he felt the same way.” Taking a deep breath, he tilts his head back against the couch. “But Cas doesn’t, at least not while I’m like this.”

Linda makes soothing noises at him until the hour is up, and Dean gives her a polite smile and a false promise to see her next week. Hopefully they’ll be back in Kansas by then, his cast scheduled to come off in a handful of days.

That night, Dean has his first non-monster or torture related dream. He could more accurately describe it as a series of experiences. He’s in various places, but usually bars, flirting with women. Then he’s in bathrooms, cars, beds, having various kinds of sex with them. Some of them have names, but most of them remain anonymous as they parade through his mind in various colors, shapes, and sizes. Waking up with a dripping erection, he rediscovers the wonders of masturbation.

It’s awkward explaining to Sam why he doesn’t want to share his dreams that day.

A couple nights later, it happens again. Except this time, it’s not women. This dream is predominantly bars and truck stops, and Dean can tell he starts out fairly young, inexperienced. Men call him pretty, compliment his lips and offer him money. Dingy bar bathrooms and back alleys, hard floors, pavement, or gravel digging into his knees, choking on cocks for grimy twenties to make sure his brother stays fed. And it was relatively easy work all because he was “pretty for a boy.”

Dean can tell he’s getting older as the dream progresses, because he spends less time on his knees and more time hustling pool or cards. There are times, where he knows that Dad’s gone off on a solo hunt, with Sam at Stanford. Set adrift and up to his own devices, Dean starts finding men again. The bathroom stalls return, the car back seats and beds as well. He’s not choking this time, except in pleasure. Moaning, wanting what’s being done to him, what he participates in.

It all halts suddenly, and Dean’s on the road with his brother, desperate enough to find their father to disrupt Sam’s college life. He’d rarely touched a man since. Oh, he’d looked, thought about it more than a few times. But he had to set an example, be his father’s weapon, protect his little brother. Sam could never know his secret shame.

This time when he wakes, it’s with bleary eyes and a heavy heart. Instead of avoiding talking about his dream, Dean asks Sam why it was so shameful, why he felt the need to hide that part of himself. After a moment of shock, Sam blames it on hunter culture, how their father was from a different time. Hunters have a short enough lifespan, and being queer just makes it even worse. “Dean, I just want to say I’m glad you felt you could talk to me about this.”

*

His cast comes off the next day, and Dean celebrates by taking as long a shower as possible. Now that Dean’s starting to remember, Jody suggests they stay for a little while longer, even if it’s only a couple more weeks for Sam and Cas to give proper notice and collect their final paychecks. She tries pushing for Thanksgiving, but Sam reminds her they have a teenage prophet manning the bunker alone, and Crowley in their dungeon. Dean’s torn, because Jody’s is comfortable, but he’s heard the coolest things about the bunker and can’t wait to explore the place, meet Kevin.

In celebrating the removal of Dean’s cast, they have a small party with takeout and a few beers. Cas relaxes his defenses just a bit, and Dean takes full advantage of what affectionate touches he can get. That night, his dreams break tradition.

It’s not a memory this time but a fantasy, all hazy and soft around the edges. Just him and Cas, on an enormous, feather-soft bed. Everything is perfect. Dean gets to touch as he pleases, and both gives and receives pleasure. The sight of Cas arching off the bed, coming undone from Dean’s ministrations wakes him. Breathing heavily, Dean is achingly hard and leaking in his underwear. He still wants Cas. He doesn’t know how he couldn’t want Cas. This dream doesn’t get written down. It’s just for him.

*

They’re sitting around the dining room table when Sam suggest that maybe reading the Carver Edlund books might help. Curious, Dean asks what those are. Jody smirks. “Oh, just some pulp fiction that tells the story of you two fighting monsters for, what? Five years?”

Dean gapes at Sam. “There were _books_ written about us?”

Sam had left that part out of his earlier summation of history. He explains about Chuck, how he was a prophet, and had written the book intended to be some kind of new gospel, but ended up as paperbacks.

“Just how many are there?” Dean asks.

“Ahh,” Sam rubs the back of his neck. “About twenty four were published, but someone released his unpublished stuff after his disappearance, I think another dozen?”

Holy shit. “How can I get them, Sam?” He wants to read them. He _needs_ to read them, especially if they’ll help fill in the gaps.

Sam gives him a skeptical look. “I remember you didn’t enjoy them the first time around, but let me make a couple calls, see if I can get the digital copies.”

He won’t need to get those books after all. That night, Dean has his most disjointed dream yet. Feeling as if trapped somewhere between sleep and waking, the floodgates open. Tiny snippets of actions, places, events flash through his mind, and he _remembers_.

Upon jerking awake, Dean remembers what happened in that old cabin, with that damn bugbear. They were coming back from Sonny’s, and had scented the hunt, detoured on the way back to the bunker. The structural collapse was his fault; he didn’t wait on Sam, had been reckless. When the thing attacked, Dean had allowed it to ram a couple very important support beams that had been holding the rest of the rickety building intact. The bugbear had been impaled by a falling beam, and Dean had been knocked unconscious by falling debris. He probably should be dead. Again.

He also remembers Cas. Everything he’s felt and repressed for years. The meaningful stares, the unspoken longing. Also a few unfortunate and untimely boners.

After taking a moment to collect himself, letting who he’s been these past weeks align with his past, Dean tosses back the covers. He uses the bathroom and brushes his teeth quickly, not wanting to wait any longer than he has to. Cas is in the kitchen, mop in hand as he slops it across the floor. Disregarding the cold wet floor under the soles of his feet, Dean yanks the mop from Cas’ grip and pushes him up against the counter.

“Dean?” Cas gives him a confused look.

“Cas,” Dean breathes, crowding closer. “ _Cas._ ” Pressing their foreheads together, he lets out a slow, long breath.

There’s still lingering doubt, and Dean has to know. “How do you feel about me, Cas?”

“I, I... what?” is the stuttered reply.

“The truth, Cas. How do you feel about me?” This close, he can see Cas’ eyes dilate, feel his fast breaths puff against his lips.

“You are everything to me, Dean.” Cas breathes, licking his wide lips. Lips that Dean remembers kissing just days before, before he _knew_.

“Guess what, Cas?” Dean can’t keep a smile from his lips.

There’s a hitch in Cas’ breathing before he replies, “What, Dean?”

Cas had said something when _his_ memory had returned, and Dean repeats it: “I remember you. I remember everything.”

With that, he takes Cas’ face in his hands, and presses a kiss to his lips. “And I still want you.”

Cas leans against him, kissing him back, hands everywhere, tongue probing his mouth. Dean’s senses fill with Cas, and it’s all he can do to hold himself upright at the onslaught of sensation, his mouth, his touch, the way it all makes him feel, what he’s allowed to have. They kiss like they’re dying for it, and Dean has to step back to breathe.

“Dean,” Cas’ growling tone sends shivers up his spine. “Are you sure?”

“Never been more sure of anything in my life, Cas.”

Mouths again locked onto each other, they navigate their way back to Dean’s room, where they become much more physically acquainted.


	11. Epilogue

It’s late fall, the trees are bare of their leaves, the ground hard and cold. Sam and Dean pack the last of their belongings into the trunk of the Impala, and Dean slides behind the wheel long enough to get her started, let her warm up. Then he’s back in the house, chasing after Cas. He finds him in the bedroom he’d shared with Sam, looking at the bare walls, the narrow mattress leaning against one wall, the simple blanket folded over the end of the bed Sam had slept in. Dean slides up behind him, wrapping arms around Castiel’s waist.

“You ready to go?’ he whispers into the soft hair at the nape of Cas’ neck. He feels the nod.

“I suppose so.”

“It’s not like we can’t come back for anything later, you know. Jody’s a good friend.”

Cas turns in his arms, facing him and placing hands on Dean’s shoulders. “She is at that.”

“C’mon, let’s go _home_.”

Jody’s in the living room, giving Sam one last hug. Then she turns to Cas, who clings to her tightly. “Thank you for showing me so much," Cas says against her shoulder. “For giving us safe respite, and for being such a wonderful human being.”

Jody closes her eyes tightly, and rocks Cas side to side. “You take care of these two now, you got that?”

With a smile, Cas nods, and they press kisses to each other’s cheeks. Lastly is Dean, and he thinks she nearly picks him up off the ground with the force of her hug.

“You need anything, you know how to get a hold of us,” Dean chokes out.

“And you, too Dean. I wouldn’t say I’d ever want to do this again, but it was nice having others in the house for a while.”

Dean gives her a soft look, reflecting at what she’s lost, what she’s had to sacrifice. After a kiss on the cheek, she herds them toward the door, and she watches as they climb into the waiting and now warm car. Dean closes the driver’s door, slides his hands along the wheel. Looking in the rearview mirror, he catches Cas’ eye and winks before turning to Sam.

“Find me some road tunes?”

Sam rolls his eyes in a fond way, and yes, it’s possible. “As long as we don’t have to listen to the same album the whole drive, Dean.”

“You know the rules, Sammy.”

Cas speaks from the back seat, his face close to the front bench as he leans forward. “I object to your rule about music, and besides. I’m not shotgun, and thus don’t need to shut my cakehole.”

Sam gives a Dean shit-eating grin, and Cas a thumb's up. With an affectionate shake of his head, Dean puts the car in reverse. “Ganging up on me’s not fair.”

When the radio clicks on, Huey Lewis and the News is belting out “Happy to be Stuck With You.” Sam reaches over to change the station, but Cas places a hand on his shoulder. “Wait.”

Turning to Dean, Cas says, “Back in the hospital, I thought of this song and promised to find it for you. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve forgotten about it until now.”

Dean smiles, and turns the volume up. “It’s okay, Cas, we’re listening to it now.”

Once on the road and transmission in drive, Dean heads for Kansas. There’s a knight of Hell on the loose, the king of the Crossroads in their dungeon, and one very irritated prophet Kevin Tran who might have killed Crowley by now, they’re not sure.

Gadreel, back in his original vessel after recently having finished healing Sam, is starting to gather the forces to defeat both Malachi and Bartholomew. With Cas’ help, there’s a group of angels also trying to figure out where Metatron’s hiding.

It’s back to business, but as Dean glances to his brother at his side, and his… Cas in the back seat, he thinks that together they can try to make fewer mistakes and put things back to rights again.

Signaling to get on the interstate, Dean pushes his foot down on the gas, listening to the sound of Baby purr beneath him. Yeah, he thinks they got it right this time, as they face south, toward Kansas, toward home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for tagging along on this adventure!
> 
> Just a note: I do plan on some timestamps for this, to be added at a later date, which feature Sam and Cas POV, and maybe some more depth into the story itself.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Banner & Wallpaper] Building A Memory](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8578885) by [Knowmefirst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knowmefirst/pseuds/Knowmefirst)




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